You're Not The Boss Of Me Now
by HiBob
Summary: Malcolm at Hogwarts, Book 5. If one Malcolm is good, then two would be better. Right? Warning: Contains Spiderwick spoilers. Complete with Deleted Scenes, Alternate Ending, Bibliography and Space Vikings.
1. Our Story So Far

**You're Not The Boss Of Me Now**

By: HiBob

The fifth in a series of stories about Malcolm at Hogwarts. This is a crossover between Malcolm in the Middle and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. The Author does not own the rights to either the television show or the books. Nor does the author own the rights to the Spiderwick Chronicles or any of the works of Neil Gaiman. On top of this, the author owns the rights to nothing that would make money. In closing, it should be noted that the Unseen University does not make an appearance in this story.

**WARNING:** This story contains Space Vikings. We apologize in advance.

A/N: This story will be posted at the rate of one chapter per day. If a chapter is not posted then you know that I worked more than twelve hours the day before.

**Chapter One: Our Story So Far**

In Year One (Hogwarts in the Middle) Malcolm and Reese find themselves on board the Hogwarts express heading toward the school. Malcolm meets Ginny Weasley, discovers he's a wizard and decides to sneak into Hogwarts. As a result, he has to stay there as a student.

Reese discovers his match in Draco Malfoy, another boy who likes to annoy and harass people. He ends up annoying Draco Malfoy, being hexed by Ron Weasley and shipped home via UPS.

Despite ending up in Gryffindor, Malcolm and Draco develop a strong friendship, marred only by the fact that everyone in Malcolm's house hates everyone in Draco's house, and vice-versa. Malcolm solves this problem by inviting Draco to his house for Christmas, as well as Ginny Weasley. They all then go to Neville's house for Boxing Day. Draco and Ginny decide to pretend they like each other but they get carried away. They even pose for a photo, kissing under the mistletoe, for a popular weekly magazine.

Despite all of that, everyone has a good time until the end of the story, when Malcolm realizes that not only can he finally go home, he has to. The only one smiling is his mother.

In Year Two (Life is Unfair) Malcolm returns to Hogwarts having fully restored Ginny and Draco's love affair by having them both arrested. Then, for some strange reason, he's forced to go see a psychiatrist. He avoids that by trying out for the Quidditch team. Despite Quidditch being cancelled because of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Malcolm still makes the team but it is the wrong team. He ends up as Slytherin's seeker.

Malcolm wins the match for his team despite the fact that the match was rigged for his team to lose. He does this by becoming an animagus after falling off his broom from a great height. And yes, he completed the change before hitting the ground, which is why the story does not end at chapter eight.

Malcolm now is an owl and thus can deliver his own mail. He also goes to the hospital and entertains the children. His other choice is to go there and entertain the psychiatrist. Anyway, Everything is fine until Draco's brother dies. (The sickly one that was hidden away that no one even knew he had.) After that, Malcolm is kidnaped and taken to a cemetery to meet You-Know-Who. Had things happened differently with Potter, Malcolm would have been welcomed as the first student of the new Hogwarts, to be renamed Voldemort University. Instead he is merely inconvenient and is poisoned and left for dead. Malcolm nearly dies, only to find out upon his recovery that his parents have come to visit him. As a result, he wishes he were dead. In addition to all of this, Malcolm falls in love but the girl dumps him, and the Malfoys give the family a house elf as a Christmas present.

In Year Three (Harry And Malcolm: Together Again) the author has trouble thinking up a good title and comes up with something totally useless. Keeping in tune with the useless title, the plot goes something like this:

Dewey, who is ten, is eleven and goes to school with Malcolm. He's in Slytherin. Malcolm spends the summer with Dennis Creevey and the Krelboynes, touring the United States. It ends with an all expense paid trip to London. Draco Malfoy spends the summer as Malcolm. He's at home the entire time. He also goes through puberty. (So does Malcolm, but this is Draco's second time.)

Back at school, Malcolm is punished for being smart by not having any classes to go to. He turns this around by becoming a teacher and teaching his own classes. Dewey makes friends with the Giant Squid. The house elf turns human and is adopted by the family. And Narcissa Malfoy tries to adopt Dewey. Everyone regrets that this does not happen. Except for Draco and Lucius.

Hallowe'en comes and Malcolm ends up with the School Ogress's daughter as his date. It turns out that the daughter looks like her father and she already has a date. Malcolm ends up dating the girl who dumped him last year. Their picture makes the Daily Prophet.

After that, the story takes a serious turn, but it doesn't last. Malcolm finds out he's the reason that Dewey fell back in time, his best friend EJ and EJ's girlfriend Amber turn out to be his great grandparents, which means his dad's really a squib with his memory of magic erased. On the other side of the family, his grandmother had an affair with Draco's grandfather, which means that Lois is a half-sister of Lucius. Lois's mother is also a witch, but that is a reference to her personality and not her magical ability. In a recent survey on vileness, she received 8 percent more votes than Voldemort.

Eventually, Malcolm loses his mind, his girlfriend finds it for him, and his great-grandmother shows him how to put it back in place. All in all, everyone had a good time . . . at one time or another.

While all of this is going on, Reese gets sent away to a boarding school, and the family lives next door to the Weasley's for the year while the house was being rebuilt. The official report was that it was a gas main explosion but the police still want to talk to Reese.

In Year Four (Could You Repeat The Question) Malcolm goes back to school after another eventful summer where nothing really happened. Everyone pretended they were someone else in hopes that their lives would be marginally better. That didn't work so everybody went back to school. Except Francis who got a job on a ranch.

Malcolm disappears for the summer after losing his memory. He spends most of his indoor time in Gabrielle's bedroom. This is not as exciting as it sounds because Malcolm lost his memory while he was an owl.

Nobody knows this except Lois, who doesn't tell anybody because she likes how much they're trying to keep her from finding out that Malcolm is missing and panicking as a result.

Reese goes back to boarding school where he stages a coup and takes over the cafeteria. He becomes head chef and is responsible for most of the weight gain among the students during the school year. He has a friend, Anthony, who hangs around with him because Reese usually ends up going to Hogwarts to meet his girlfriend, Millicent.

If you read, Harry Potter Book VI then you know there isn't really a happy ending. There really isn't an ending at all. The story just stops.

On a more positive note, Ginny Weasley finally broke up with Draco Malfoy. And it was not because Fred and George found out about it. (They had known all along.) It was because Ginny realized that Harry DID like her. It was also because it would take a miracle for Ginny to ever get her parents to accept Draco. That fact that Draco would probably be executed by the Dark Lord for consorting with a blood traitor never entered her mind.

So, as the story ends, Draco is consoling himself about his loss, Ginny is snuggling up to Harry, Malcolm is upset that Gabrielle dumped him, even though she had a very good reason that had nothing to do with him. Dewey is in an alternate universe starring as himself in a tv show. Nob is blissfully unaware that he is no longer going to be the youngest in the family. And Reese is head chef at the boarding school over the hill from Hogwarts. (It's about a forty-five minute walk.) For the summer, Reese is pretending to be Draco, a task he really enjoys because, beside the fact that the Malfoys are fantastically rich, Reese honestly believes he is Draco. Draco is pretending to be an owl and is hiding in Gabrielle's bedroom . . . with a blanket over his cage.

* * *

Chapter List: 

Chapter 01: Our Story So Far

Chapter 02: Sharing With Your Brother

Chapter 03: You Say It's Your Birthday

Chapter 04: Something Wicked This Way Comes

Chapter 05: Visitors and Apparitions

Chapter 06: Where No Man Has Bothered To Go Before

Chapter 07: The Return Home

Chapter 08: Next Stop, Hogwarts

Chapter 09: We're Going to School

Chapter 10: Arrival

Chapter 11: Where The Heck Is Malcolm

Chapter 12: As Time goes By

Chapter 13: Halloween

Chapter 14: The Feast Of Samanois

Chapter 15: Investigation

Chapter 16: Back To The Shadows

Chapter 17: What's It All About, Malcolm

Chapter 18: Whiling Away The Time

Chapter 19: Christmas Is Coming

Chapter 20: The Forest Of Dean

Chapter 21: Spring Break

Chapter 22: The End Of Days

Chapter 23: Space Vikings

Chapter 24: Where Do We Go From Here.

Chapter 25: Extra Stuff

* * *


	2. Sharing With Your Brother

**Chapter 2: Sharing With Your Brother.**

The two boys appeared suddenly in the room across from each other. Distrust and animosity filled both of them at once. Not that this was unusual. These two boys were brothers. Nor were they merely brothers. They were brothers raised to expect disloyalty and deceit from all others in their family. The first boy, the younger of the two, spoke first.

"Dewey, can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure, Nob, but if you really want the favor you should try asking Malcolm."

"Malcolm?"

The boy on the couch did not even bother turning away from the television. "No."

Dewey snorted. "I knew you wouldn't do it."

Nob sniffled. "You didn't even let me tell you what it was?"

Malcolm smirked. "I don't need to know. I don't have the time. I've got a date in an hour."

Nob smiled. "That's plenty of time. And you don't even have to do anything. Can I at least tell you what it is?"

Malcolm turned to look at Nob. "Sure. Go ahead."

[_What the heck. It's a commercial, anyway._

Nob smiled at once. "I got the idea from Johnny. We were playing one of his old RPG's. It was all about wizards and stuff. And they had this spell that was pretty neat. I thought I'd give it a try."

"And the spell is?"

"Shared Enhancement. We link our bodies together by magic so that if one of us gets tired or something, he can get strength from the other. It's really neat. And I worked it out." The seven-year-old was beaming.

[_This could be fun. At the party, I'll be able to sneak twice as many beers. If the spell works. And Nob will have to explain to mom why he's drunk._

"Why not? But I should warn you. I'm going to be dancing quite a bit later today."

Nob's grin grew bigger. "That'll be perfect. And if I feel I'm getting too tired, I'll take a nap. That way we'll both feel better."

[_That's what I like about Nob. He's still gullible enough to believe me when I tell him stuff._

Malcolm waved Nob over to the couch. "So how does the spell work."

Nob sat on the couch next to his brother. "It's kinda like a binding promise. We both hold our wands out. And we have to hold hands. We say the spell at the same time, then tap each other's wrist."

Malcolm grinned. "And you figured this out all by yourself?"

"Yeah. I've been reading about spells and this sounds like the right way to do it. But I've never had the chance to check it out."

"You also don't have a wand," Malcolm pointed out.

Nob paused. "Dewey?"

"Sure. You can borrow mine."

"Thanks." Nob eagerly grabbed the wand as Dewey held it out. He turned back to Malcolm. "Now, we grab hands like we're shaking them, then we say 'Topoi Desmon Logoi'."

Malcolm smirked. "Greek?"

"Yeah. That way they won't know we're doing magic." He leaned in to whisper. "Dewey found that out when he decided to try the lumos spell and no one came to yell at him."

[_That's a useful thing to know. If it's true. Then all I'd need is my Greek dictionary and I can practice all sorts of spells._

The fifteen-year-old held out his hand. "Let's give it a go."

The seven-year-old grabbed his hand. Both boys held out their wands, recited the incantation, then tapped each others wrist. A blue glow surrounded both of them. It faded away to be followed by a loud popping noise and yelling.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU TWO ARE DOING?" David Winter paused when he saw who he was yelling at. "Nob, why are you with Malcolm? What happened to Dewey?"

"I'm over here," Dewey said from the corner of the room. "I wanted to watch them get into trouble."

"YOU LIED," Nob yelled, then looked at David Winter. "He said you couldn't catch us if we used Greek."

David Winter paused to roll his eyes. "Not quite. I can't catch you if you don't use magic."

"Hi, Dave," Lois said as she walked out of the kitchen. "I heard you pop in so I poured you a cup of coffee."

David thanked her as he took the proffered cup. He turned back to the two boys on the couch. "And what did you do?"

"Shared health," Nob said cheerfully.

David gave Malcolm an appraising stare. Malcolm pointed to Nob. David ran his hand through his graying hair as he turned to Nob. "And how old are you?"

"Eight on Halloween," Nob answered.

"Good. We can see about sending you to a special school. I'll talk to your mother about it." David smiled kindly at the boy. "You'll like the school and you won't be alone. Your brother will be there."

Nob became nervous. "Which brother?" he asked, casting quick glances at Malcolm and Dewey.

Nob had the advantage of being very smart. When, as a changeling, he decided on his final form, he chose Malcolm after seeing a picture of his brother when he was Nob's age. As a result, he was just as smart. That is why he instantly realized which brother David Winter was talking about. And it wasn't Francis. Despite his intelligence, he responded to the revelation in what could be considered a normal fashion. For anyone who knew Reese, that is.

"NOOOOOOOOOO. Please, Mister Winter. I'll be good. I won't ever, ever do magic again. I promise. Really."

"It's not as bad as it sounds," David said in a voice that told everyone he was lying. "And if you continue to show such advanced abilities, your attendance at Glen Levitt Academy is guaranteed." He smiled when Nob gulped. "Have I made my point?"

Nob nodded rapidly then went to flee the room.

"Not so fast, little mister," Lois called before the boy could leave the room. "I'm taking you to day camp in ten minutes. So get ready. And if you don't participate today . . ."

Lois ended her statement with a nod toward David Winter. Nob nodded, trying to hide a smile.

"Boys." Lois made the word sound like a curse. "Malcolm, is it me or does he act the same way you did when I sent you to day camp?"

"You sent me with Reese, Mom. I was going to hate it regardless. Nob just hates the fact that everyone's bigger than he is. At least Reese isn't beating him up."

"He'll grow out of it," Lois said offhandedly. "NOB, HURRY UP."

"Malcolm," David called. When the boy looked up, he handed him the now empty coffee cup. "Make yourself useful. And let me know how the spell works out." He smiled to Lois. "Don't worry. I should be able to smooth this incident over. It won't affect Malcolm's returning to school."

[_You can believe that. Mister Winter is my personal watchdog. His job is to keep me in Hogwarts. Actually, I think his job is to keep me out of the country as much as possible. He's even going to escort me to England next week with Reese. It's Anthony's birthday. And I get to stay there until after the Weasley wedding, the following week. It'll be great._

* * *

Nob sat happily in the car as Lois drove him to the day camp. He didn't even mind his mother nagging him about trying to fit in. For once he was looking forward to it.

"Hey, the shrimp's here," someone shouted as Nob exited the car. Making sure his mother wasn't looking, he returned the other boy's greeting with an offensive hand gesture. Lois looked up in time to see the boy walking over to Nob.

"See, honey. One of your friends is already coming over to greet you. And you keep saying nobody likes you."

"You're gonna die, short stuff," the kid hissed as he walked up to Nob.

"Try it anytime," Nob sneered back with confidence.

"Shut up, you two, or I'll smack both of you. Ronny, take Nob and get him to sign in. And if there's any trouble, I'll tell your mother how you wet your pants last week watching that scary movie."

Ronny's gang snickered upon hearing that. Ronny looked back and scowled. "It was a really good movie. I just waited too long." He scowled at Nob when the smaller boy laughed along with the rest of the gang. Grabbing him a little harder than he had to, he led Nob to the sign-in desk. "So, you signin' up for any of the races?"

"Can't do them all," Nob answered casually. "Probably just the endurance race."

"You kidding? The kid who won last year ran for over an hour. And he'd been jogging with his dad for years. Even ran a couple of 10Ks." Ronny's voice became dangerous. "And he's back again this year."

Nob smiled. "I'll beat him." He looked up. "Wanna bet?"

"Hello, dears," the counselor said as the two boys walked up. "Welcome back, Nob. I'm happy to see you're smiling today. We'll check you in." She made a mark on her check sheet. "And are you going to participate in anything? It is competition day." She pushed forward two sheets as she wiggled her eyebrows in a way that was supposed to say these were exciting. One sheet was for the basket weaving competition. It had three names. If he signed it, Nob would be the only one competing who did not have buck teeth or wear glasses. The other sheet was for the spelling bee. The same three names were on it.

"I'll try that one." Nob pointed to a sheet that had almost two dozen names on it.

"Are you sure, dear?" The counselor seemed confused.

"Mom says I gotta do something," Nob admitted. He leaned forward and whispered, "I don't have to try to win. Do I?"

The counselor scowled. "No." She handed Nob the pen. "Just sign it and get out of here." As Nob signed his name, the counselor muttered to herself, "why do I waste my time with anyone from that family?"

Nob walked away happily. Even Ronny was impressed that he signed up. He walked over to the refreshment stand and grabbed his complimentary juice box and cookie, then walked over to the field where the races were going to take place. He sat down and waited.

* * *

Malcolm knocked on the door and Cynthia answered almost at once. After all these years, she finally had a date with the boy of her dreams. After all, Malcolm was the only Krelboyne who never wore braces. They walked arm in arm and talked casually about how their school years went. When they reached Dabney's house, they didn't stop to knock but simply walked in. They crossed the small living room down the short corridor to Dabney's bedroom, and opened the door. Instantly, two hanging portraits welcomed them. One portrait told them that most of the guests were in the arcade. They thanked the portraits and headed through the foyer into the reception area. Crossing the entrance hall to the wall length aquarium, they paused.

"Malcolm. Thanks for asking me to be your date."

"Hey, I'm just happy you said yes."

Cynthia leaned forward as she said, "You know, there's always something I wanted to do."

[_YES!_

Malcolm smiled. As he also leaned forward, he asked, "What?"

Their lips inches apart, Cynthia said, "This."

As their lips touched, Malcolm pulled back and said, "OW."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. It felt like someone hit me in the side." Malcolm pulled up his shirt. On his left side, a small bruise was beginning to appear. "How did that happen?"

"What's that noise?" It was Beatrice Whatshername, Belinda's mom. "Malcolm?" She looked at the bruise. "What happened?"

"I don't know. We were . . . uh . . . walking over to the game room and I felt something hit me."

The woman looked around but did not see anything out of order. She shrugged and pulled out her wand. "It's a minor injury. Let me take care of that for you." She cast a healing spell and the bruise faded away. "Feel better."

"Yeah, thanks, OW." Malcolm held up his hand and looked at his fist.

Beatrice and Cynthia both gave him concerned looks. Malcolm shook his hand and shrugged. "I'm OK. But for a moment there it felt like something hard hit my knuckles."

Beatrice nodded. "Fine, then. But we'll discuss this later. I've been hearing stories." She forced herself between the two teenagers and led them into the arcade. "And let's not have any more . . . walking, if you know what I mean."

* * *

"Hey, Nob," Ronny said as he walked up. Without stopping, he punched Nob in the side as hard as he could. "Thought I'd give you a helping hand with the competition."

Nob gasped for breath as pain filled his side. Then he realized that the pain was not as bad as it should have been. That meant the spell was working. He might have enough strength to throw a surprise punch. As Nob tried to straighten up, he suddenly felt better. Much better than he should have. His side didn't hurt at all. With all his strength, he swung his right arm and hit Ronny in the mouth. Ronny didn't react for a few seconds. Then he suddenly jumped up and ran away, crying for his mother. Nob shook his head. That kid might be a full head taller, but he was still only six. And he had just proved it. As Nob flexed his fist, the call went out. The Endurance Race was about to begin.

Everyone lined up in three rows for the race. The rules were simple. Each lap had to be completed in a certain amount of time. Anyone who did not reach a certain point before the allotted time was automatically out. Nob has the misfortune of being in the back. He could lose just by the others blocking his way. Before he had time to think, the cap gun was fired and everyone began to run.

The boy who won the previous year did not race forward like everyone else. Nob understood what he was doing. This race was for distance, not speed. He did not have to stay in the lead. All he had to do was stay in the race. He opted for the easiest solution. He ran behind the other boy and paced him.

* * *

Malcolm looked around for the birthday boy but Dabney was nowhere in sight. Someone said he had to go somewhere but would be back shortly. And Missus don't-do-anything-fun decided she would chaperone. Because of that, everyone except Lloyd was annoyed that Belinda had come to the party. Several cases of beer were gradually becoming warm all because no one risked an adult witch finding out about them.

Malcolm sat down at one of the tables with his juice box. Like Cynthia, he set it down without bothering to open it. "I have a plan," he whispered. "All we need is to get someone to distract Belinda's mom for a few minutes. I'll transfigure the beer bottles into juice boxes, then all we have to do is switch them for the real ones."

Cynthia's eyes went wide. "You can really do that."

"Yeah. Just like magic."

Cynthia laughed, cast a quick look around, and gave Malcolm a quick peck. "You're amazing. Who should we get to distract her?"

Malcolm nodded his head toward Belinda. "The one responsible for her being here in the first place."

"Hey, Malcolm," Kyle said as he and Alex walked up. He added in a whisper, "drag about the chaperone."

"Malcolm's working on a plan," Cynthia told them, then turned to Malcolm and added, "unless she becomes suspicious about everyone suddenly wanting something to drink."

"Transfiguration?" Alex asked, adding, "Good thinking."

"Would you like to help?"

"In a second. Malcolm, some friends came to visit. HEY, GUYS!"

Three apparitions turned away from watching the competition at the foosball table and floated eagerly when Alex called. All were dressed in ghostly jeans and sneakers, and Grateful Dead T-shirts. The middle one was wearing an old-fashioned English schoolboy's cap.

"Malcolm, isn't it? Good to see you, mate? You remember Charles and Basil, of course."

"Yeah, Edwin. Are you here to visit?"

Edwin nodded his ghostly head. "A chance to visit the States, you know."

"I never spent much time here when I was alive," Charles admitted, "so a lot of this is new to me, too."

Malcolm turned to the third ghost. "Basil, you're looking good. The clothes, I mean"

"Thank you, Malcolm. It was much easier to form than I thought it would be. After all, it has only been a fortnight or so. I was terrified at the wedding. I was afraid my clothes would fade in the middle of the ceremony."

[_That was great, too. Argus Filch was best man at his twin brother's wedding. He was in such a good mood he even asked me to watch Mrs. Norris for him. I held her up at the right time and she ended up catching the bridal bouquet. And I know she liked that. She ate the whole thing._

"He did fine," Edwin noted.

Charles nodded. "And it helped convince Edwin to try changing his outfit as well. I thought the fancy suits came off rather well."

"Wedding?" Cynthia asked.

"The principal at Reese's school in England got married. The whole family was invited." Malcolm smiled, then suddenly took a deep breath. He shook his head. "I feel tired for some reason."

Cynthia became concerned. "You're not in pain or anything."

"Pain?" Belinda asked as she and Lloyd walked up.

"Right after we got here, Malcolm yelled as though someone had hit him. And he has a brand new bruise just under his arm."

Malcolm looked up. His face was flush and he was breathing more heavily now, almost gasping for each breath. "Belinda, get your mom."

"MOM," Belinda yelled and waved her mother over. Beatrice ran to the table.

"Malcolm? What is it?"

"I'm . . . getting . . . tired. Don't . . . know . . . why?"

Beatrice pulled out her wand and pointed it at Malcolm. "Rennervate." After the golden glow faded, she asked how he felt.

"Better," Malcolm admitted. "But I feel like the spell didn't work completely."

"Rennervate," Beatrice said again, and smiled when Malcolm's color returned to normal. "Can you walk? I think you may have been cursed. Let's get you to the hospital."

"No need for that," David Winter said as he walked into the game room. He strode toward the table that everyone was gathering around. He nodded to Beatrice who still had her wand out. "Did you use energy enhancement?"

"Twice," she acknowledged.

"As expected. Excuse me while I make a call." He pulled out a cell phone, turned it on and pressed a number. "Yes . . . just arrived . . . like he's completely fresh? . . . Good. I'll tell Malcolm." He closed the phone and turned it off. "Your spell works perfectly. Nob is running around the track as though he just started out."

"Spell?" a room full of people asked.

"You mean . . . ?"

David Winter nodded. He spoke loud enough for everyone to here. "Malcolm has developed a spell whereby two people can share health. His little brother is running in an endurance race to prove that point, and after one hour he is still going strong."

"How strong?" Malcolm dared to ask.

"The race is down to two children. Nob is one and the other is a professional jogger who is three years older than him."

"Him?" Lloyd asked. "He's a total jerk. Even normal kids don't like him."

[_An expert has spoken._

"And you're cheating?" Cynthia asked with glee. "I hope Nob beats the pants off of him."

Almost every non-wizard in the room cheered Malcolm for what he was doing. Alex raised his hand. "You don't mean that kid who flooes to the private school."

"Excuse me," David Winter asked.

"Yeah, his mom's a witch but his dad's this 'I'm so bad' muggle."

One of the other wizard-born laughed. "You mean that ten-year-old punk's cheating in a muggle race? Just to get a trophy for his wall? You're right, Lloyd. He is a total jerk."

[_Wow. Lloyd was right about someone. It must be that maturity thing._

After hearing everyone's reaction, David pulled his phone out and pressed redial.

* * *

Lois watched from the parents area as Nob began the race. She knew something was up when David stopped by. He told her of the spell and of what he suspected. Lois nodded. As she watched, the boys and girls were quickly dropping out. After a half hour, only three were left. Now, Nob was beginning to fall back and Lois looked worried. Then, "as if by magic", Nob seemed to get his second wind. He picked up speed and even passed one of the other runners. That runner left after the next quarter turn.

When David called to confirm what happened, Lois decided what to do. She wasn't going to let any of her children win by cheating. She made her way to the side of the track, mostly by intimidation, and waited angrily for Nob. Nob was coming by as the phone rang. Lois flipped her cell phone open as she pointed at Nob to come to her. Nob ran over and stopped as Lois hung up the phone. "I know what you did," she hissed. Then she yelled

"YOU LISTEN TO ME, LITTLE MISTER. IF YOU DON'T WIN THIS RACE, YOU WON'T SIT DOWN FOR A WEEK."

Nob ran off as quickly as he could in a mixture of delight and fear. Lois walked over to the proud parents of the other remaining contestant. "Hi," she said kindly to them to get their attention. She spoke loud enough for only them to hear. "You put your wand away right now or I'll show you what I can do with my wand."

"Do I know you?" The woman said frostily.

"I think you should leave," the man said forcefully, "you bi . . ."

"Sorry, I'm late," David Winter said as he suddenly walked up and stood slightly forward of the couple. He smiled at Lois who nodded and turned to watch the rest of the race. David looked at the gentleman and smiled. Holding out his hand he said, "My friends call me Dave" adding in a lower tone, "Department of Muggle Security."

Both parents froze. The woman's sudden movement betrayed the fact that she had been covertly holding her wand but had put it away.

David shrugged his shoulders. "Your boy's a good runner. He trains?"

The man's tone said he didn't want to talk. "We jog together on a daily basis."

"Hmmm." David made it sound like he thought that was incredibly interesting. "Nob doesn't train at all. He never slows down long enough. I swear he would eat dinner on the run if his mother would let him."

"Dirty lowlife filth, that kid is," the woman whispered to her husband.

"Amazing boy, you know," David said as though he hadn't heard anything. As he spoke, he deliberately kept his hands in view to show that he had no wand. Anyone watching without knowing what was going on would only see a man gesturing as he spoke. "His Godfather teaches at Hogwarts . . . have you heard of it? It's an old school. Up past the Scottish border. I've had a chance to visit it. Beautiful place . . . oh dear, your boy seems to be flagging . . . and . . . see that, Nob just had a new burst of speed. Amazing boy. And I can assure you that I made sure there was no one here helping him, such as his brother, Malcolm."

A gleam came to the woman's eye. "I've heard of him. Is Malcolm here?"

"Definitely not. He's at a friend's house. I left him sitting at a table with a colleague watching him with her wand drawn. She knows to strike him with a spell if she thinks it's needed."

"A colleague."

"Yes. She teaches at Brentwood Academy and assists the department during the summer. Amazing woman. Oh dear." Despite the tone, he was smiling. "Your son failed to complete that last lap." He held out his hand to the man. "Please accept my condolences." The man glared at him. David shrugged. "Or not." He dropped his pleasant manner. "After all, turnabout is fair play."

"You cheated," the man hissed.

"I stopped a cheater from winning," David hissed back. "And I lied to do it. I'm not with Muggle Security."

"That is a felony offense," the woman said, almost with glee. "You represented yourself as part of the government."

"It is perfectly legitimate," David noted, "for any government official to represent himself in a lower capacity if he should deem it appropriate."

"I deal in wizard law," the woman added. "You would have to be higher than the entire Department to make that claim, Mister . . ."

"Winter. You might have heard of me."

The woman paled. Of course, she had heard of him. His official title was United States Consul of Magic to the Court of Saint James. She whispered quickly to her husband, then both just as quickly walked away to console their son.

* * *

"What happened?" Lois asked as she carried her son, to the car. He was sound asleep and wearing a blue ribbon.

"The spell. It gives extra energy, but it can only do so much. The body still demands enough rest to compensate. He'll probably sleep through until morning."

Lois smiled as she laid him in back of the station wagon and threw a blanket on him. "Sleep well, my little RoadRunner."

* * *

"What happened?" Cynthia asked.

"He ran out of energy," Beatrice told her. "I expect he'll be asleep for the next twenty hours." She raised Malcolm with her wand and floated him out of the arcade to one of the upstairs bedrooms.

Cynthia sighed. This was the worst date of her life.

"At least Nob won." Kyle tried to console her but it didn't work.

"It was supposed to be a date."

Alex smiled. "Then why not date me? I'm still awake. And I have . . . juice boxes."

"Whoopee," Cynthia said without enthusiasm.

Alex handed her a juice box. The flavor was pilsner. She looked up and Alex grinned. "He was an excellent diversion."

* * *

Minerva McGonagall examined the list of all children in Great Britain who had been born with the ability to perform magic. She tapped the list and it became much smaller. It now showed only the names of those children who would be eleven on the first day of September. As she read the list, her eyes widened as she spied a familiar name. She would make it a point to invite herself to the birthday party of a certain boy who was supposed to become sixteen. And she would bring the letter with her. Just in case.

A thought occurred to her, and Minerva decided to change her plans. As she would be intruding, she would take someone with her. And, in case her worst fears were realized, she would bring a second letter, the name blank, as well.

* * *

"That was a great spell," Nob said as he showed off his blue ribbon, again.

"And I've got a reward for you," Lois told her youngest son. "I've arranged it so you can go to that birthday party, too."

"But I won't know anybody," Nob complained.

"You'll know your brothers, and they'll introduce you to people."

Hal smiled as he heard the conversation. He stood up from the breakfast table and kissed Lois. "And we get to be alone for an entire day."

"Will he be staying for the wedding?" Malcolm asked.

Lois smiled. "I owled Molly and told her Hal and I couldn't make it. It's only going to be you and Dewey."

"I'm not going?" Nob asked.

"We're stuck with Reese," Hal told him. "You can distract him for us."

"Great," Nob said as he slumped in his chair. "I get to spend the whole day with you two."

"No you don't," Dewey explained. "Reese is already at the party. You'll be in the kitchen, helping him."


	3. You Say It's Your Birthday

**Chapter 3: You Say It's Your Birthday**

Anthony knocked eagerly on the door to the small house. The tall tow-headed boy was about to have his first real birthday party. With friends. It was all a new experience for him. One he anticipated and feared. Then the door opened.

Rose Zeller looked up in delight. The soon-to-be third year witch grabbed the boy inside and gave him a hug. "Happy Birthday." Without hesitation, she dragged him into the den and introduced him to her parents. Both nodded approvingly at him and added their own wishes to those of their daughter. They then mentioned the time and suggested they should go.

"Go?" Anthony asked.

"To the party," Rose explained.

"I thought the party was here?"

"I'm muggle-born," Rose pointed out. "You can't have a proper wizard birthday party here."

"Yes, I can. I'm not a proper wizard."

Mrs. Zeller patted his shoulder. "Please don't complain. We have to go, too. To keep an eye on Rose." She added emphatically, "we don't want a reason not to go."

Anthony laughed. "I heard she had a boyfriend."

Rose blushed. "He's only a friend," she insisted. "He was joking when he said we should get married."

"So you wouldn't have to change your name?" Anthony asked, the smile growing on his face.

"I'm thirteen," Rose told him. "I'm not planning on changing my name anyway. At least not for a few years."

Mrs. Zeller laughed. "But she is old enough to start thinking about it."

"MOM!"

Mr. Zeller patted his daughter's shoulder. "She's teasing, and you know it. Still, I would like to meet this boy, Matthew." He turned to Anthony. "She told us about him in her first letter from school her first year. About what a horrible boy he is. And her last letter from this year told us the exact opposite."

"He was and he is," Rose admitted. "And you'll like him, Daddy."

"Let's go then," her father suggested.

Rose walked over to the fireplace which was burning merrily. "Anthony, have you flooed before?"

"A few times. But only to Hogwarts."

Rose was impressed. "Then you know what to do. We're going to Matt's house. When you throw the powder in, call out 'Zeller Manor'."

Anthony nodded. Rose went first, followed by her mother. Then it was Anthony's turn. The trip took longer by far than the others he had made, so he guessed he must be going more than a few miles. He reached his destination and stumbled out into a large room, barely keeping his balance. He was immediately hugged by another thirteen-year-old girl. She was a Gryffindor named Jenny.

"You made it," she shouted. She turned to the others gathered there and shouted again. "He made it!"

Euan was there shaking his hand as was Mitchell. They were the remaining members of the group of four he had met on the Hogwarts Express almost two years ago. And Matthew Zeller was there as well. When they first met, Anthony hit him. Now they were shaking hands as though they were old friends, which they had become. Mathew's father came up to him, to officially welcome him to his house. He turned Anthony over to his son to be led to the party room, while he turned his attention to the muggle Zellers.

It was a like walking into a dream. A huge banner hung in midair near the far wall. It read "Happy Birthday, Anthony". Below the words was pictured a birthday cake with sixteen candles, all of which were shooting off fireworks which explode in a bas relief of colors all over the canvas. And the room was covered in streamers which gradually faded from one color into another. In the middle of the room was a large table. And in the center of the table, there it sat.

The birthday cake. It was huge. And it didn't have candles stuck into it. Sixteen burning candles hovered over the top of the cake moving around in an intricate pattern. The icing was completely white except for the frosty blue lettering which spelled out his name.

"It's wonderful." Anthony said to Rose and Matthew who stood on either side of him.

"And what do I do with this?" Rose asked.

Anthony looked down at the ribband box she was holding and followed Matthew's hand as he pointed to a side table already covered with a dozen or more presents. Matthew looked up at Anthony and told him, "Not until after we eat."

Anthony had to make his rounds and greet all of the guests. The parents were all delighted to meet him. Fred and George Weasley, who claimed they were there as the caterers, clapped him on the back and asked, loudly, about birthday whacks.

"I've heard it's a muggle custom," George told him.

Anthony returned the smirk. "That's why this isn't a muggle birthday party."

"With brains like yours," Fred assured him, "you would have made a great wizard."

Others were there as well. The Slytherins, Avery and Baddock, the Ravenclaw, Michael Davies (with his brother as chaperone). There were also other soon-to-be third years, including the rest of the Gryffindors.

And Malcolm was there, with Dewey and Nob. Anthony smiled as the three wished him the best but his heart dropped. Reese wasn't there. He had to ask.

"Nobody told him," Dewey said pointedly.

Nob honestly looked surprised. "They really are friends?"

Malcolm slapped Nob on the top of the head. "Of course they are. That's why Reese insisted on cooking the birthday dinner." He looked at Anthony and smiled. "Didn't want anyone to screw it up."

"He's in the kitchen?" Anthony looked around. "Uh, I should say hello."

"Yeah," Dewey acknowledged. "He did say someone had to do the dishes."

Anthony blushed with embarrassment. Knowing Reese, that was exactly what would happen. Still, he had to say hello. Matthew guided him to the kitchens. Anthony said hello. Reese said to grab the large spoon and stir the mashed potatoes so they wouldn't stick. A helpful house elf was there, holding out a large spoon.

* * *

"Do you have it?" Matthew asked Euan once he was free from greeting the guests.

Euan patted his pocket. "It's probably the last vial of Weasley Stinker outside of their shop. And I talked to Fred. He told us we don't have to use all of it. They did some experimenting. There's enough there for three doses."

Matthew began looking around for other targets. He spied Malcolm and turned back to Euan. Euan was already smiling.

Mitchell walked up. "Well."

"There's enough to get Malcolm as well," Euan informed his friend.

"I'll be handing out the birthday toasts," Matthew said. "I'll make sure everyone gets the right drink."

"Master Zeller," a familiar, and unexpected voice said from behind them.

"UH, Professor McGonagall. Welcome to our house."

"Why, thank you. I was looking for Anthony. I was told you would know what happened to him."

"He's in the kitchen with Reese, helping cook dinner."

Professor McGonagall smiled at the thought of finally tasting one of Reese's legendary culinary delights. It was the one true gift the totally obnoxious and self-centered boy had. "Is Anthony helping him out of choice?"

"Well, he did walk into the kitchens knowing Reese was there."

"And, how is he?"

"Rude, as always."

McGonagall frowned. "I meant Anthony."

Matthew thought it was an unusual question but shrugged it off. "He's fine. I think he enjoys helping Reese."

"Everyone has their faults," Euan added helpfully.

"Matthew," Mister Zeller called from the hall. "We have . . . another uninvited guest?"

"Forgive me, Mister Zeller," Professor McGonagall explained. "I asked her to come. She isn't here as a guest. Not exactly. Are you free, yet?"

"I am, Professor. And now I am extremely curious about what you want to tell me."

"I think we should take Gabrielle with us as this does concern her as well."

The three boys stared at each other when they heard that name. Gabrielle. That must be Gabrielle Delacour, Malcolm's old girlfriend. Euan's grin became impossibly wide as he said, "I figured it out."

"Then tell us," Mitchell demanded.

"Gabrielle broke up with Malcolm last year . . . because she met Anthony."

"You mean . . ." Mitchell was dazed by the thought. "That's why Professor McGonagall's here. To watch Malcolm when . . ."

Matthew smiled. "This is going to be a GREAT birthday party."

* * *

"I'm glad I had to come," Nob said as he finished the meal. "If Reese is the school cook, maybe I should go to Glen Levitt."

"And help out in the kitchen?" Dewey asked.

"Yeah, maybe not."

Malcolm laughed then turned back to his conversation with Michael Abercrombie. "To be honest it was the Hufflepuffs who started it. I didn't plan on being a teacher at all."

"And they let you get away with it?"

"Yeah, kind of. Nobody knew at first, but everyone who found out agreed to help. And Euan was one of the better students."

"He told me he received an O for outstanding."

Malcolm nodded. "Him and one of the Slytherins. They're friends, too, from what I hear."

Michael Abercrombie nodded sullenly. "I'm not sure that is a good thing."

Malcolm seemed annoyed for some reason he couldn't pin down. "They fought Slytherins, you know."

Abercrombie was clearly surprised. "Avery's son fought against students in his own house? That is unusual to say the least. And he and Euan have a . . . close . . . bond?"

"The whole year does. They decided it was first years first." Malcolm looked up with concern. "Sir, I've been hearing rumors. If they're even close to being true then . . . Euan and his friends . . ."

"I understand, son. Their bonds will be tested. And those rumors are very close to being true." He looked at Malcolm carefully. "Can you be trusted to carry messages?"

[_Huh? Are things really that bad?_

"Yeah. Why?"

"Let's talk later. This is a party." The man cleared his throat. "You say he attacked a group of older students?"

Malcolm noticed that it was said loud enough to be heard by Euan and a few others. "Yeah, three fourth years, I think. And they attacked him . . ."

[_I get it. Matt's Dad is Slytherin. That's why he phrased it that way. Professor Binns calls it being tactful._

". . . One of his Slytherin friends helped out and . . . I don't know exactly what happened, but we now know how to transfigure a human being into a corn flake."

[_Even Mister Abercrombie thinks I did good. Matt's Dad smiled when I said 'his Slytherin friend'. And this is cool. Euan's being congratulated by Jenny and Anthony's demanding to know why he never said anything._

Malcolm smiled as Mister Zeller asked everyone to step into the library before dessert. Matthew had told him that he would personally be handing out some of the drinks and would make sure his was wine.

* * *

Matthew quickly picked up the tray of drinks he was supposed to hand out. It was no great difficulty asking his father for the task, so that he could be the one to give Anthony his first glass of wine. (Muggles become adults at sixteen, he reminded his father.) He looked at the fluted glasses already filled with champagne and quickly emptied a third of the vial into the fanciest one, the birthday boy's glass. As he began to pour some of the potion into another glass he heard his father's voice. Rather than measure the portion, he dumped the entire contents and palmed the now empty vial.

"Coming, Father."

He carried the tray deftly through the crowd, winking at Euan and Mitchell as he went by. He could see Mitchell was whispering to Jenny and Rose, and he knew what they were being told. Approaching the birthday boy, he bowed politely. "A glass of wine, Sir?"

Anthony looked mildly surprised, glanced at Mister Zeller, who nodded. He happily took the proffered glass. Matthew picked a glass from his tray and handed it to his father. Two other's went to the Zellers, Rose's parents. Michael Abercrombie was given his glass. With two glasses left on the tray, he walked up to Reese. He handed him a glass and said, "Sir". Reese beamed at the idea of drinking alcohol and greedily grabbed the glass, first making sure that his had more in it than the other remaining glass.

Now was the moment. Matthew was standing in front of Malcolm, the final glass in his hand. He gave a pointed look at his father, smiling when the man, after a short pause, nodded his head. Matthew held up the glass, saying, "Professor?"

Malcolm thanked him and took the champagne. He smiled at Reese, then stepped away so Reese couldn't grab his glass as well. Matthew stepped back as well. Rose was there with a glass of pumpkin juice for him. He smiled and waited for the fun. Except he noticed something. There was a person in the corner, almost out of sight, watching the festivities. He peered closely and recognized the transfiguration Professor. Why was she standing back? He remembered that she hadn't been at dinner, either. Rose noticed her, too, and nudged Matthew. "Do you know why Professor McGonagall is here?"

Both of them almost missed Anthony drinking his glass. It was a Zeller birthday tradition, Matt had explained, that the birthday boy, or girl, drank their toast first. It was a sign of good fortune if they did it in one swallow. They watched Anthony receive good fortune and put down his empty glass to a round of cheers. McGonagall forgotten for the moment, the young teens waited for the reaction. Matt frowned. His father wasn't recoiling. Instead he was shaking Anthony's hand. Everyone was still cheering when they should be holding their noses.

"You gave him the right glass?" Rose asked.

"It's different from the others. I couldn't have given him the wrong one if I tried."

Someone screamed. Glasses were being dropped. Rose and Matt looked back at Anthony. He was gone. In his place, with Anthony's clothes draped over him, was a small boy who looked like he was Anthony's younger brother.

Despite their distance, Fred and George were the first ones to move. As they ran to the front, several of the adult guests pulled out their wands nervously and began scanning the room. The idea had occurred to more than one person that this might be part of an attack. Mister Zeller overcame his surprise and joined the twins as they knelt by the young boy.

"Anthony?"

"Wha . . . What happened?" The boy was frightened by his sudden change.

"You are still Anthony?" Zeller asked again.

"I hope so. What happened to me? Why did I shrink?"

"Let's fix your clothes," Fred told him and he took out his wand.

"Excuse me," Professor McGonagall said as she came forward. "I will take care of this, Mister Weasley, although I do admire your quick thinking." She waved her wand over the boy and his clothes began to shrink as well until they once again fit. The resulting effect made it obvious that he was much younger than he was only a few minutes before. Next, Professor McGonagall conjured a full length mirror.

"Don't be afraid, Anthony. We'll verify your age later, but look in the mirror and tell me how old you were when you last looked like this."

Anthony turned to look in the mirror. He recognized himself, but barely. "Uh, ten, I think."

Professor McGonagall stood up to face the crowd of people. She looked at Malcolm, decided something, and turned to Matthew Zeller.

"Professor," George said as he noticed who she was looking at. "I hate to be a snitch but I think I know what happened. We all thought it was one of our tricks. Do you remember the Weasley Stinkers."

McGonagall snorted, showing that she did remember. "And who found it?"

Matthew answered, "Uh, Uh."

"Matthew Zeller?" An angry adult male voice said.

"I'm sorry, Father. I'm sorry, Professor. We thought it would be funny. We didn't know."

"Where is it?" McGonagall demanded.

Matthew was now confused. "Where is what?"

"The vial you found. You found it in the desk of Malcolm's old classroom. You're not to blame, Matthew, but you must give me that vial. NOW."

As Matthew fumbled through his pockets, Euan stepped forward.

"Professor, I was the one who found it. Me and Jenny. We honestly thought it was one of the Weasley tricks."

McGonagall took the vial when Matthew walked up with it and examined it closely. "This vial is empty." She turned around and called, "Miss Delacour."

A girl of eleven walked into the room through a nearby door. She was shown the vial and nodded her head. McGonagall turned to Mister Zeller. "I was right. It was the de-aging potion."

There was a pause of surprise then everyone began whispering to each other until Fred Weasley spoke.

"Matt, didn't we say you didn't need to use all of it?"

Matthew's face became red. "Yes. And I didn't."

"Then what did you do with the rest of it?"

"We thought it would be fun if we also . . ." He pointed at Malcolm, who still had his drink in his hand.

"Anyone else?" McGonagall asked, sighing in relief when the boy shook his head.

In the silence that occurred, Anthony could be heard muttering, "I'm ten, again. I'm a ten year old shrimp, again."

"It's your birthday, young man. You're eleven," McGonagall said without turning around. She looked over the crowd and introduced herself. "And now you all deserve an explanation. Two years ago, young Malcolm in the corner, there . . . you may have heard of him . . . thwarted a kidnaping by a deranged wizard and also stole one of his secret experiments, this vial. He put it in a drawer of his desk and promptly forgot about it. Admittedly, he had other things on his mind. Last Halloween, Miss Delacour found it and, as did young Mister Zeller, assumed it was one of the concoctions that the Weasley brothers now sell in their shop in Diagon Alley. She thought it would be amusing to try it. She took a sip and thought to put the cap back on. When she suddenly found herself to be ten years old again, she threw the vial back into the drawer and fled the classroom she was in." McGonagall paused. "I do not think I have to explain why two fourteen-year-old students of the opposite sex would want to be in a deserted classroom."

The laughter was more for relief than anything else, as everyone was surprised at the disclosure.

"Master Abercrombie admits that he found the vial under similar circumstances." McGonagall paused to glare at Euan who, along with Jenny, was blushing furiously. "Which is why we only found the wizard's notebook, which Malcolm also stole, when Miss Delacour had recovered from her shock enough to tell us what had happened." She turned to Anthony. "I am afraid, young man, that you will have to wait five more years for your sixteenth birthday, but there are compensations."

Anthony looked up in surprise. Professor McGonagall was holding out an envelope to him. Anthony opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

"You are hereby accepted to . . . Is this real?"

McGonagall smiled at him. "If, in all your visits to the school, you had ever handled anyone's wand, you would have realized at once that you were a wizard. As things stand now, I must say, 'Welcome to Hogwarts'."

Applause went up in the room from everyone who was not holding a glass. Those who were, made it a point to shout. Recovered from the surprises, Mister Zeller asked everyone for quiet. As he did, house elves ran around making sure that everyone again had something to drink. "I give to you . . ."

"For Merlin's sake," McGonagall interrupted. "I almost forgot. MALCOLM, YOUR DRINK."

Malcolm pulled his eyes from Gabrielle, the sadness evident. "Oh, I'm sorry." He raised his glass. "To the . . ."

"NO. It has the potion in it."

Malcolm froze. His drink had also been spiked.

[_If I drank this, I'd become as young as Anthony . . . As Gabrielle!_

McGonagall saw the glint in Malcolm's eye and pulled out her wand, but Malcolm was too fast. He swallowed the contents of his glass before the Professor could utter a single spell.

"Now we'll be the same age," Malcolm called cheerfully to Gabrielle.

"No, you won't, you foolish boy," McGonagall said. "Your drink had twice the potion in it."

Dewey smirked. "Good going, BABY brother."


	4. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Chapter 4: Something Wicked This Way Comes.**

"OH, NO," Nob shouted as he suddenly kicked off his sneakers. As he did so he also undid his belt, letting his shorts drop to the floor. With no modesty whatsoever he began to unbutton his shirt. Malcolm said, "I feel really good." Then Nob screamed.

As Malcolm began to shrink as he grew younger, the button's on Nob's shirt popped off of their own accord as he grew larger. In less than a minute, Malcolm was a duplicate of what Anthony had been, his clothes hanging off him like oversized rags. But Nob, his remaining clothes torn to shreds as he quickly outgrew them, was lying on the floor curled up into a fetal position. He was moaning audibly.

"Oh, yeah," Dewey said, and drank the contents of his glass. "Malcolm, you forgot to take the spell off."

Eleven-year-old Malcolm looked up at his now older brother. "What spell?"

"Shared Enhancement," eleven-year-old Nob moaned.

"Nob?" Malcolm asked with sudden concern. "Are you hurt?"

"No, you idiot. I'm naked in a room full of people. It's worse than in my dreams."

[_Yeah, I've had those dreams._

"WHY DID YOU DO SOMETHING SO STUPID?" McGonagall yelled.

Gabrielle walked up to Malcolm and smiled.

"He did zis for me."

She put her arms around his neck and they kissed. When they parted, Nob was standing there in an oversized robe Matt had grabbed for him.

"Nob?" Malcolm asked.

"And to think. I chose you as my role model."

* * *

Everyone had a new glass in hand, again, including Malcolm and Gabrielle. Mister Zeller looked at his son.

"Are there any more surprises?" He raised his glass. "Then . . . I give you The Birthday Boy."

As everyone drank their toast, Fred and George waved their wands. Miniature fireworks began exploding all over the room; whizbangs flew over and through the gathered crowd; sparklers erupted from all the flowers and plants.

"Hey, midget," Euan called as he clasped Anthony's shoulder. "Remember, Gryffindor is the best house."

"If you can't get into Ravenclaw," Rose Zeller added as she gave him a hug.

Anthony gave them a huge smile. "I know I should be mad, but . . ." He walked up to Reese. "I'll miss your cooking." Reese looked around and noticed no one was watching. He quickly shook Anthony's hand and wished him the best. He then made a fist and threatened to flatten anyone who told on him.

"We'll tell them you were very rude," Rose promised, and Reese smiled again.

Anthony did not have the chance to return to the party room for quite a while. Almost every adult stopped him to express their surprise at what happened and their delight at the outcome. Finally, he walked back to the party room to see the banner had change. It now had eleven candles. He looked at the cake and the number of candles there had changed as well.

Once everyone had gathered around, Anthony stood on a chair, trying not to be embarrassed. An hour ago, the chair was in the way. Now it was a necessity. He took a deep breath, and hesitated. The candles had lined themselves up as though they wanted to be blown out. He let his breath out in surprise and the candles began to disperse again into their merry dance.

This time, Anthony was ready. He took a deep breath, waited for the candles to finish lining up, then blew them all out in one breath. He then fell backwards off the chair into the arms of Matt's laughing father. Instead of the candles going out, they exploded into another display of fireworks. Had Anthony looked to his right, he would have seen the Weasley twins congratulating themselves. By the time he was handed his slice of the birthday cake, he was convinced this was the best birthday he was ever going to have.

* * *

"He recovered rather quickly," Professor McGonagall noted, as she sat on the couch along the far wall of the room.

"He doesn't understand magic," Malcolm said, seated on her left.

"And he's been around Malcolm too much," Nob said, seated on her right.

"Too true," McGonagall agreed. "He has learned to expect anything. Still . . ."

It was Nob who laughed. "Still? From what I heard, he had a lousy life. And school was terrible for him too."

"Nob's right," Malcolm admitted. "Then he met Reese and . . ."

[_This is the weird part._

". . . it got better. He made friends."

"Yeah," Nob acknowledged. "And now he has to go to school all over again . . . with his friends."

"This is worse than I thought," McGonagall said with dismay.

"That Anthony's happy?"

"No, because of what I now have to do. Under the circumstances, Malcolm . . ."

[_MY DREAM? I thought it was the Great Hall because it was so fancy but . . ._

"PLEASE DON'T EXPEL ME?" Malcolm suddenly shouted.

As the room fell silent, McGonagall stared at the frightened boy now kneeling in front of her. "Whatever are you talking about? Get off the floor and sit back down. You're making a spectacle of yourself?"

[_You know. I can hear Basil laughing at me. He did this just to embarrass me._

Sheepishly, Malcolm sat down again.

"As I was saying," McGonagall continued, "Under the circumstances, you are no longer a student at Hogwarts. I was hoping this wouldn't happen but I must now give you this." She handed Malcolm an envelope.

Malcolm looked at the envelope with confusion. He wasn't expelled but he was no longer a student. He tore it open and pulled out the letter inside. He read the first line. "You are hereby accepted . . ." He looked up. "But I already go to Hogwarts?"

"As with Anthony, you are now also eleven. You are also old enough to BEGIN at Hogwarts. And you never received a letter, if I remember correctly. Do you wish to go?"

"Um . . ." Malcolm said as a smile crept to his lips.

"You can forget that idea. Gabrielle Delacour will be attending Bauxbatons this fall and both sets of parents, yours and hers, have agreed that the two of you will never go to the same school."

[_Dang._

"Yeah," Malcolm said sadly, "I'll go to Hogwarts."

"Oh, joy. Oh, joy."

"Good for you, Malcolm," Nob said with a dearth of enthusiasm. "You get to be with your friends again. And I get to be the biggest kid in second grade."

"Not exactly."

Both Malcolm and Nob turned to look at McGonagall.

"Do you mean?" Malcolm asked.

"Really?" Nob asked in turn.

"Really," she assured him. "And here is your letter."

"I ACCEPT," Nob shouted. He jumped up onto the couch and hug the Transfiguration Professor with all his might. As he released the Professor, he happened to notice everyone else was already eating dessert. "Professor, could I get some cake?"

For a second, Minerva McGonagall saw the seven-year-old boy that was talking. "You may. If you can get past the crowd."

Nob smiled. He jumped from where he was standing and transformed into a tawny owl. Flying over everyone's head, he landed as he transformed back into himself. Eagerly, he asked Mister Zeller for a piece of cake. The man smiled at him and charmed a large piece onto a plate. Knowing he was dealing with an overly large boy of seven, Zeller asked him if he would like ice cream as well. Nob was in heaven.

Back in the corner, McGonagall was looking at a now sullen Malcolm. "You didn't tell me Nob was an animagus."

"Nob's an animagus," Malcolm said without feeling.

"And why are you sad? You have everything you wanted."

"Stop being nice to me. You know I screwed up. I didn't even think about what I was doing."

McGonagall gave a short laugh. "Everyone knows you . . . screwed up. You'll probably make the Daily Prophet because of this. And everyone knows you didn't think. Not only that, everyone knows why." She added huffily, "I brought Gabrielle here to make sure of that."

Malcolm was no longer feeling self-pity. He was now feeling confusion. "You knew this would happen?"

"Good. You're thinking again. You have remarkable mood swings for a boy your age, whichever age you want to choose. I knew that Anthony was on the list to become a student this year, I knew what happened to Gabrielle, and I knew the vial had disappeared. What happened today was a forgone conclusion."

"And you knew about me and Nob?"

"Hardly. Not that any of this was a surprise. I knew, given a chance, you would attempt this foolishness, which you did. And you had the greatest luck as far as the outcome. What happened with Nob was a complete surprise."

"But you had our letters?"

"Close. I had Anthony's letter. And because I know you so well, I brought along a second one. All I had to do was tap that envelope so that your name would appear. Nob's letter used to be someone's broken wine glass."

McGonagall looked at the completely surprised boy sitting next to her. Knowing there was an uninvited guest sitting with the birthday boy, she leaned forward until she was inches from his face. "Malcolm. You're eleven. Go and have some cake. And if you don't know how to act your age, there's a young lady over there who can help you."

Malcolm's mood swing was complete and he was smiling broadly once again. His smile took an impish turn as he jumped up and hugged the Professor. He then turned around and jumped into the air, transforming as he did so. It was only appropriate as he flew away that the Weasley twins would approach.

"Professor?"

McGonagall glared at them. "Did you see those two boys? Do you understand what Malcolm did, Fred Weasley?"

"I'm George."

"I'm not in the mood."

"Sorry. Yeah, me and George figured it out at once."

George smiled. "At least you know how to deal with twins."

* * *

Mister Zeller was pleased that the party had been so successful. He was now facing one of the downsides of having agreed to be the host. Avery, the suspected Death Eater, wanted a few private words with him.

"You took a great risk in coming here."

"No one here would recognize me even without my disguise, Zeller. Unless you wish to turn me in for the reward?"

"I should. I would make a tidy profit." He paused to give an amused look. "And I would not be running any great risk. I understand your popularity has diminished within your own social circle."

Avery bristled at the reminder of his recent past. "I am not as unpopular as you might wish, Zeller. Nor as unfriendly. I thought you would be curious to know that some people might not appreciate the company you keep."

"Really?" came the answer in mock surprise. The voice then became stern. "I notice that your son is one of that company. Are you telling me I should not have let him come? Or you?"

"But you are having a birthday party for a Mu . . ."

Zeller's look told Avery that he had best choose his words carefully if he wished to continue the conversation. "I will host a party for anyone I choose, for any reason I choose. These are friends, for good or ill, of my son. They wished to do a favor for one of their own, and I complied. No one was forced to come here." He added with poignant reassurance, "and no one will be forced to leave."

"Things . . . could . . . be about to change, Zeller. For your family's sake, you should have considered that."

Zeller smiled. He was now on familiar ground. "I have. Things are going to change. One way or another. IF the chosen one has his way, my future potential customers will have a strong preference, when they are faced with a choice, of doing business with me."

"And if HE wins?"

"I have made risky investments before, and dropped them without any qualms when I found them no longer worth the effort. I AM a business man. And if your master needs further assurances, let him know that I never commit myself to any venture before I know it will be successful. While Potter lives, I must be forced to have reservations." He grabbed Avery's arm for emphasis. "That is something you should have considered. You've escaped from Azkaban, man. If the authorities find you, you know what will happen."

"Jeffrey." Avery used the man's first name. "That won't matter in a week or so. You should know."

Zeller released the man and stepped back. "Are you saying . . . ?"

"He's that close. Potter won't be able to do anything either. That matter is being taken care of."

"Damn you, Tavin. That does put me in a spot."

"And me as well. HE will know that I brought Malin as well."

Zeller nodded. "Then I should thank you for the warning."

"If I can do anything, please let me know. Let my wife know."

Zeller nodded. "There is something you can do. Keep your eyes open and your mouth closed. And if you ever find a chance to be free of your master, take it. Or he will destroy you. As for me, I will let MY SISTER know if I need anything."

Avery understood that the meeting was over. He went toward the door but was called back. Zeller was walking toward him. "Tavin, the boy, Anthony, but for events, would have been an adult in his own world. He has forsaken his home already but now his plans are changed. Should anyone ask, I have decided to take him into my house because I am curious how a muggle child could have suppressed his magical abilities. It could be useful to know how it was done."

Avery smiled. "I know someone who would find that very useful."

Jeffrey Zeller watched as his brother-in-law left the room. He understood exactly what he had been told. Once the party was over, he would have work to do. Business arrangements to be concluded or changed. And done without creating too much of a fuss. All in all, he thought, his finances shouldn't suffer.

* * *

Jeffrey Zeller was smiling at his latest guest, although this one was expected. It was supposed to be an honor to have such a distinguished American visitor, but circumstances had made this cause for amusement.

"Mister Winter, welcome to my home. The party is running longer than expected. The festivities are not quite over. I believe you're in time to hear the, um, Slytherin Blues Band."

David Winter smiled politely, out of habit. "I assume Dewey is involved in that. I suppose I would be wayward if I also assumed there were no problems."

"Oh, there were several. But everything sorted itself out. Would you like to listen to the music, or would you rather talk to Professor McGonagall straight off?"

David sighed. "Is Malcolm with her?"

"He is in the party room with Gabrielle Delacour waiting for the band to start playing."

David stopped dead in his tracks. "But they . . ."

"They resolved their age difference and are now back together."

"Please tell me why you are smiling when you say that? What did he do?"

A young boy of eleven came walking out of the party room as David asked that question. He stopped when he saw the two men talking and recognized the newcomer.

"Uh . . . Hi, Mister Winter."

Surprise. "Malcolm?"

"I'm Nob, Sir."

Confusion. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do it. It was Malcolm. Well, it was me a little bit but only because I forgot about that spell, but it's okay." The boy grinned wildly as he pulled out a letter. "I'M GOING TO HOGWARTS!"

Fear. David guessed correctly what spell Nob forgot. His mind reached the correct conclusion and rejected it promptly in a last ditch act of denial. He walked over to the nearest chair and sat down, elbows on knees, head in hands. "Please don't tell me . . ."

Jeffrey Zeller's voice was filled with mirth. "I won't. Professor McGonagall has that task. My duty now is to listen to my nephew and his fellow musicians."

* * *

Avery looked around the room with a careful eye. This would still be a friendly audience but this was the largest number of adults he had every played in front of. Guitar in hand, he nodded to Dewey who fingered the keyboard in front of him and began a familiar blues rift. A glance over his shoulder and Malcolm Baddock began a light backbeat on the drums. As a final act, Avery flipped out a pair of sunglasses and put them on. He leaned into the microphone.

"Welcome to our show, everyone. We have Dewey on piano, Malcolm on drums, I'm Malin on the guitar . . . And this first song is going out to a former teacher . . . and his girlfriend. It's called, 'Let Me Love You'."

"B. B. King," Reese said to Malcolm. "This is great."

Malcolm listened to the lyrics and agreed. He turned to Gabrielle and whispered the words to the chorus when it came around the second time. "_If you would let me love you, baby, there is nothing in the world I wouldn't do."_

Reese noticed David Winter at the doorway. It was obvious that he wanted Reese to send Malcolm to him. That was when Reese did something nice. (Depending on your perspective.) He waved to Mister Winter as though that was all that was expected of him then turned his full attention back to the band. Malcolm was already in trouble, anyway.

* * *

"I never knew having fun was such hard work," Anthony said as he sat down on the couch next to Matt. Ruth was sitting at the other end of the couch, almost asleep. Everyone else had gone except for the Zellers and their children. However, the muggle Zellers would be leaving shortly.

"Could I just stay here?" Ruth asked. "I can leave when I wake up. A birthday party isn't supposed to last eight hours."

"Eight and a half," Matt replied. "And it was your idea to start dancing."

"Like you hated every minute of it. You even danced with Jenny when I wanted to take a break."

Anthony tried to laugh but yawned instead. He still had problems of his own. He hadn't told anybody, but he had no place to go when he left here. He had plans, but those were for a boy of sixteen. He smiled and resolved to make the best of it. "We'll both be gone soon, Ruth. Then we can all get some rest."

Ruth sat up, suddenly awake. "What do you mean? I thought you were staying?"

"What?"

"Matt said . . ."

"That's what father told me," Matt admitted. "Can't send a minor out to wander the streets. Where are you going? If you go back with Ruth."

"Where would he have gone?" Ruth corrected. "We know you ran away or whatever you'd call it."

"But I never told anyone I was planning that. How did you know?" He frowned. "Magic?"

Rose and Matt snorted. Matt answered. "You told everyone our first year. 'Once I'm sixteen, I'm gone. Like I've never been.' Did I quote you correctly?"

"Yeah? But? How did you know I didn't change my mind?" Anthony understood the looks he was receiving. If even half of what he hinted about were true, why would he change his mind. He had to laugh. "I'm supposed to be at the enlistment office tomorrow at eight."

"Army?" Ruth asked.

"Navy. Not that it matters anymore." He looked at Matt. "I can stay here?"

Matt smiled. "You have to. And Anthony, Wizards don't become adults until they're seventeen."

Anthony smiled. "I can live with that."


	5. Visitors and Apparations

**Chapter 5: Visitors and Apparitions**

Ginny Weasley was always a good girl but she was strong-willed. The argument that she was only going next door finally won her parents over. But only after Fred and George agreed to escort her. Now she was eagerly knocking on the door of Malcolm's old house. As she waited, she wondered if half of what Fred and George told her was true.

"Malcolm," a woman's voice called from inside the house, "could you get that?"

"It's probably for me anyway," a high-pitched voice said. A strangely familiar voice, as though she hadn't heard it in a long time. "Who is it? You have to identify yourself."

"It's me, Ginny. Is that you, Malcolm?"

"You have to prove you're the real Ginny."

"I can't. Fred and George are with me."

And the door opened, revealing the familiar boy Ginny once knew.

[_She doesn't have to laugh like that._

"Hello, c'mon in, take a load off," Malcolm mumbled.

As Ginny finally regained control of herself, Nob walked into the room with Mrs. Winter. Ginny's eyes went wide as she kept looking back and forth between the two boys.

"She never looks at us like that," Fred complained.

"This is so strange," Ginny finally admitted. "You two are EXACTLY alike."

"So are we," Fred told her.

"No, you're not," Ginny explained. "That one freckle on your nose is in the middle of one side. On George, it's back just enough to tell it's not centered. But, I mean, look at them. They aren't even mirror images. They're identical."

"It's his fault," Nob told her.

"My fault?" Malcolm asked. "I'm not the one who decided to be five years old."

"I didn't decide to be five. I was five. At least I was acting my age."

"I'm not the one who cast a spell without knowing how to cancel it."

"I'm not the one who's lovesick over some French girl."

"Well, I'm not the one who thinks Mom is cool."

[_Sometimes I do, but that's not the point of the argument._

"And I'm not the one playing Kissy Kissy with his girlfriend."

"The next one," Mrs. Winter said clearly, "who uses the phrase, 'I'm not', will not get dessert."

"I'm sorry," Malcolm apologized. "I won't argue anymore." He looked at Nob and asked, politely, "Nob, are you going to argue any more?"

"No, I'm not," Nob acknowledged.

"HA. No dessert for you."

[_Nob is too easy to manipulate._

George and Fred rushed forward, each grabbing one of the two brothers as the fists started flying.

"Thank you for visiting," Mrs. Winter told the Weasleys, "but I think it's time to put these two boys to bed."

"But we haven't had our supper, yet," Nob complained.

"Exactly."

"So much for visiting Malcolm," Ginny said as the two boys, still complaining, were herded upstairs to the bedroom. Two minutes later, Mrs. Winter descended the stairs with Dewey who was mumbling that he could never get any privacy.

"Hi, Dewey," Fred and George called out as the sullen boy walked over. "Gin, you should have heard his band at the birthday party. He killed on the keyboards."

Ginny's smile froze in place. She looked carefully at Dewey. "I thought you played the saxophone? When did you . . ." A horrible thought crossed her mind. "Erik?"

Dewey nodded.

"But . . . I mean . . . Uh."

"Ginny," Fred asked carefully. "Who's Eric?"

"That's Erik, with a K," George corrected, "so, Gin, who's this Erik?"

"Um . . . Well . . ."

"He taught me the keyboards," Dewey explained. "You've met him. He was with me at the funeral."

"Yeah," George admitted, "He was about your height. You still see him?"

"All the time," Dewey admitted with a wry smile.

Mrs. Winter returned with a pitcher of lemonade and offered drinks all around. As she was pouring the third glass, the fireplace erupted in green flame and a voice came through.

"Honey, I'm coming home. I need you to verify it's me."

Mrs. Winter laughed. "If I ask you to prove who you are, you won't do it. You know that."

"We have to do this to be safe," Mister Winter explained. "And I would prove it. I won't leave you alone with those boys if I don't have to."

"It is you, dear. Come on home. And I should warn you. The neighbors' kids are here."

Moments later, David Winter stepped out of the fireplace and into the living room proper. He was greeted by four welcoming hello's and a very welcome glass of lemonade. He asked where "the twins" were and smiled broadly when he received the answer.

"Mister Winter," Ginny asked when she had a chance. "Could I talk to you in private?" Too late she saw Dewey shake his head. But she was already committed. When they were in the kitchen, and Mister Winter offered her a cookie (he knew enough English to ask if she wanted a biscuit), she decided on what to do.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I can't explain why, but I need to talk to Professor McGonagall. And I don't know who to trust to get to contact her, without asking questions. And I don't really want anyone knowing that I'm asking."

"It's about Malcolm, isn't it?"

"No," Ginny said quickly, "Not really. Well, sort of."

"NO. I will not contact anyone for any reason unless I know the specifics. I've learned that from dealing with Malcolm too many times."

Ginny hesitated, then decided she had to do it. And for all that Mister Winter had done for her and Malcolm, and Draco, it was only fair. At least it seemed that way. The important thing was to present the issue in a firm and direct manner. And she started off on the right foot.

"Um . . ."

The other right foot.

David Winter groaned. "I'm not going to like this. Am I?"

"Um . . . my brothers are here. Could you cast a silencing spell?"

As David Winter did so, twin voices from the living room said, "Dang."

"What?"

Ginny hesitated for half a moment then blurted everything out. "Malcolm knows how to travel to parallel worlds and he brought a couple of people back with him to visit and one of them looks like Dewey so he and Dewey decided to trade places just for fun but nobody believes he's not really Dewey so Malcolm won't take him back."

"Miss Weasley, I know Malcolm is capable of many things but this is beyond his abilities. And it's not even believable. I would need proof."

"Erik's a muggle."

"Who's Erik?"

"Did you see Dewey when you came in? He's Erik."

"Excuse me." David Winter walked over to a kitchen cabinet and pulled out a small glass. He reached behind some plastic bowls on the top shelf and pulled out a bottle of brandy. He poured an ounce of brandy into the glass, shrugged, then poured a second ounce. He put the bottle back where he had taken it from, downed the brandy in one shot, then set the glass on the counter. He then walked back to where Ginny was standing. "So, Erik is a squib?"

"No, a muggle."

"Ah, I see." David cancelled the silencing spell, and told her to wait. He walked into the living room and confronted the twins. "I see no one explained things to your sister? She was extremely suspicious. I want to keep her here until you leave tonight. Let your mother know."

Fred and George glanced briefly at the kitchen, and frowned. They had made it a point not to say anything. And they were very good at not saying anything. As though reading their minds, David added, dryly, "she is a Weasley, after all."

"We'll let Mum know," George assured him, and they quickly left without even questioning his remarks. David was only thankful that his proximity to the Weasleys, and his position as emergency plan B, let him be privy to what was going on with the Potter boy. Hopefully, that was one problem he would not have to deal with.

"Erik?"

"Who's Erik, dear?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey, Dewey is. Isn't that right, Erik?"

Dewey glared at him. "How much did she tell you?"

"Everything. Except why you didn't tell anyone."

"Well, I did at first," Erik admitted. "But no one believed me. They thought I was Dewey making things up." He deliberately paused for effect. "You know, Mister Winter, no one in his family really pays any attention to him." He shrugged his shoulders. "Anyway, then I found out about the birthday party, and Malin asked if I wanted to play with the band . . ."

"Malin? As in Malin Avery? The Death Eater's son?"

"Yeah, he and Dewey are best friends. Anyway, I got to go to a great birthday party and next week I get to go to a wizards wedding. I figured since Mister Abercrombie is watching, Dewey's okay, so I'd wait until the weekend to try again."

"Shall I get Malcolm?" Mrs. Winter asked. "Or shall we wait until morning?"

Erik looked up. "You're not surprised by any of this?"

"With Malcolm involved? Why should I be? This is exactly the kind of thing that boy would do." She turned to her husband. "Dear?"

"We'll discuss this over dinner, shall we? I'll tell Malcolm and Nob that they have a reprieve." He smiled. "And by the time I'm through questioning them, neither one will feel like eating."

As David Winter marched up the stairs, his wife patted Erik on the shoulder. "Don't worry. None of his anger will be directed at you."

"I believe you," Erik lied.

"What happened," Ginny asked as she came out of the kitchen. "I heard the voices stop."

Mrs. Winter smiled. "You'll be having dinner with us, child. We will have a few things to discuss, anyway. Why don't you and Erik help me set the table."

"You know? Then everything worked out."

"Yeah," Erik said snidely. "Now, I'm going to miss the wedding."

"Sorry."

* * *

"Look, Mister Winter, they're just lying." Malcolm's manner would have been more convincing at fifteen, but now that he was eleven again he came across as a whiny little kid. "Dewey's been bugging me about going there ever since he found out I could travel to a parallel world. And after meeting that Erik kid, he switched tactics and started claiming he was Erik so that I would feel guilty and take him there. It's all a trick." 

David nodded as he twirled the spaghetti around his fork. "When did Dewey learn to play the piano? I understand it takes years of practice to play as well as he did at the birthday party." "Wasn't that magic?" Malcolm asked hopefully.

"Erik can't do magic." David Winter smiled as he finally got his point across.

"Oh."

[_Wait a minute. This could work out. We keep Erik. That means Dewey isn't at Hogwarts anymore. I'm still stuck with Nob, but that could be fun._

"Mister Winter, it's been a while. I'm not sure I remember the spell."

"Then you will need a lot of quiet time so that you can think about it and remember."

Nob smiled. "I think he just remembered."

"You're not going." Malcolm told him.

"I don't plan on it," Nob answered brusquely. "Knowing you, you'd leave me there on purpose."

"And why shouldn't I? Every time I turn around you're always there, getting in my face."

"So, Ginny," Mrs. Winter said, to change the subject. "How are things at your house?"

Ginny tried to smile and frown at the same time. "Let's just say that I'm so happy to be eating here, I could listen to Malcolm and Nob all night long. Between the wedding plans and, um, other things, I may never have another break."

"Other things?" Erik asked. "Like in the, um, stories you were telling me?"

Ginny nodded. "Dad said he wasn't sure how well things were going to hold up. You know, Erik, this would be a wonderful time to go back home."

"I was trying to change the subject," Mrs. Winter said crossly.

David put a calming hand on her. "It's all part of the same subject, dear. There's no getting around it. Erik should go home as quickly as possible because it is the safest thing for him."

"Mister Winter," Malcolm asked. "Would it be safer for me if I went to a different school?"

"Your mother said no."

[_He would think that._

"What about Brentwood Academy?"

David paused. "In view of who your relatives are, I don't think it will matter where you go."

"Yes, it will, dear," his wife said. "From what you have told me, Malcolm has a reputation, as well as relatives of a particular sort."

Nob was confused. "I know Malcolm's reputation. I'd think everyone would be delighted."

The woman gave him a motherly smile. "Think of it as a circus act and Malcolm is the lion tamer. If he suddenly decides to back away, the consequences could be unexpected and unwelcome. He would be safer in the lion's cage as long as the door remains open."

"That's a perfect description," Ginny said . "Because the lion is out of his cage. Just hope, Malcolm, that he doesn't try to get back in."

"What about Mom and Dad?" Nob asked. "And Francis?"

"As long as you're safe," David assured the boy, "They will be safe."

"Can I go to Brentwood?"

"You'll have to live at home," Malcolm pointed out.

"Never mind."

Erik raised his hand. "If I stay, can I still be in Slytherin?"

David looked out the window. "It's not even close to dark yet. We can make the switch if we hurry."

"Won't people notice?" Malcolm asked. "It's not like replacing a broken vase. The new vase doesn't have to remember what it did for the past two months."

David nodded. "You would be an expert in that area."

* * *

"It's kind of like a portkey. Everybody grabs hold. And Erik, concentrate on where you want us to go. You'll be the focus. Mister Winter, Ginny, are you ready?" 

"Bring back a souvenir," Mrs. Winter called out to her husband.

Nob merely sighed as he slumped into an easy chair.

Malcolm raised his wand over his head and pointed it at the circle of hands. Mentally, he recited the spell that would transform them to a particular world and a particular place. Mrs. Winter was hardly disturbed that four people suddenly disappearing without a sound, but she was very much upset when, upon turning around to say something to Nob, she found the boy had also disappeared.

* * *

Dewey looked up when he heard the popping noise. He immediately called out, "Mom, Dad, I'M BACK." He then looked Erik in the eye. "How'd you manage to get back by yourself?" 

Erik smiled weakly as his mother and father entered the room. He had a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

David Winter was mildly surprised when he arrived at his destination. It was exactly what he expected. And then he noticed he was alone. This was not a good thing. A man walked across the lawn to him. 

"Came to look at the house?"

"Is it for sale?" David Winter was amazed. The house, except for its cleanliness, looked exactly like Malcolm's house.

The man laughed. "You're not really that big of a fan, are you?"

David was at a loss. "I'm sorry. I seem to be missing something. I . . . uh . . . was told there was a house for sale on this street. I was . . . um . . . walking the neighborhood."

The man laughed. "Then the joke's on me. See, I get people all the time coming by to see the house THEY lived in. Not as many now that the show's been cancelled."

"Malcolm?" David Winter asked. Erik said that in his world, he played Dewey on TV.

"Yeah, Malcolm in the Middle."

"I didn't recognize it. It's so clean." He looked around. "And I don't see any for sale signs on the neighbor's lawns."

The man laughed again. "Sorry about that."

"No harm done," David said politely with a tip of his (spell-protected) hat. "As I said, I was walking the neighborhood, anyway." He casually walked away, noticing that the area looked very familiar. He had a thought and pulled out his cell phone, smiling when he received conformation of a signal. He kept walking as he talked, heading for the main roads.

"Directory Assistance?"

"I need a muggle address?" David said calmly.

"I'm sorry sir? Did you say My Gal?"

David paused. He was in a dangerous position. He should have asked for more information. "Harry Potter," he said on a hunch.

The voice on the phone laughed. "Harvey," she said in the background, "I've got another fan here." She was back on the phone, "And which canny did you want the number of?"

David carefully said his next line, hoping that the name he heard matched the one he knew. "Abercrombie, first name I think is Michael."

"No listings for a Michael Abercrombie. The closest we have is Miklos Abercrombie." the operator snorted. "He's Security Supervisor on canny films for Great Britain and Ireland. Shall I connect you?"

"Please."

"And . . . your number is not listed, Sir." Now she was cautious. "Who should I say is calling?"

David paused. His guesses had played well so far. Hopefully, Dewey had told this man enough that he would recognize the name. "David Winter."

"Sir. That name is not part of our directory."

"Neither is this phone. I hope you understand."

A hesitant voice replied, "Yes, Sir. I'll connect you right away."

David smiled. She had put the pieces together but in the wrong order. The phone rang. The operator announced who was calling. And the man at the other end cheerfully agreed, saying he was expecting the call.

"Where are you?" Abercrombie asked.

"Near Malcolm's house. I'm two blocks away, walking north. I came with Malcolm and Ginny. We were bringing Erik home."

"Erik's fine. His parents called me at once. That's all I know. And you're in the States? Alone? Hold on." Two minutes later. "This is all on the fringe but, where are you now?"

"Three blocks away walking north."

"Stop at the next corner and stick your wand in the air as though you were calling the Knight Bus. With luck, You'll be spotted by friends of mine. If not, try not to look like a fool."

* * *

Ginny smiled when she suddenly appeared in the brilliantly lit parlor. It was completely unexpected. It looked old and comfortable. If the Weasleys were muggles, this is the kind of place they would grow up in. She looked around, smiling, then realized she was alone in the room. 

This was completely wrong. They should have arrived together, wherever they were going. She heard footsteps behind her and quickly turned around to see Malcolm and Nob walking toward her. Except . . . they weren't. They were both dressed casually, but one of them seemed sloppy while the other, probably Nob, had a sense of order about him. And both were staring at her.

Finally, the cleaner of the two boys spoke. "Mallory, what did you do to your hair? It looks great."

"I don't believe mom let you do that," the other boy said.

"What did I let who do?" a woman asked as she stepped into view. "Oh, Mallory, you're home early." Her eyes widened. "I don't believe you did that. Jared, Simon, did either of you know she was planning this?"

Both boys shook their heads.

"Mallory, I want an explanation, now."

"Malcolm is going to be so dead when I find him."

The woman was not amused. "And who is Malcolm?"

"New boyfriend?" one of the boys suggested.

"He is," Ginny answered, pointing at one of the twins. "At least, he's supposed to be."

"That's not funny, Mallory."

"Mom," the Malcolm boy said, "that's not Mallory."

"Then who . . ." everyone started looking intensely at her as the mother spoke, "or what is she?"

They watched each other in silence for a brief time until the Malcolm boy, shrugging his shoulders, stepped forward slowly. "I think she's English." He held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Jared Grace."

"Ginny Weasley. And I am from England."

They shook hands.

"Welcome to NEW England. And you are human." Jared said as she showed her the ring he was wearing. "It's made of iron."

"Ginny, I'm Helen Grace. If I may ask, why are you here?"

"Well . . . It's a long story. Are there any other extra people here? Another twin or a stuffy old man in a fedora hat?"

Helen came forward and grabbed Ginny's arm. "Why don't we sit down. I have a feeling this is going to be a long story."

* * *

David walked to the next corner, which was the intersection of a major street. He looked around to see if he could notice anyone. He pulled out his wand and held it in the air. Nothing happened. 

"Hey, mister," a girl of ten asked, "is that a magic wand you're waving?"

David smiled and put his wand away. "No, it isn't."

"Looked like one. Did you see anybody wave a magic wand? Mommy asked me to keep an eye out."

"JILL," a woman said as she ran out of a nearby house, "Are you bothering the man? Was she bothering you? You're not David Winter, are you?"

"That WAS a wand," the girl accused.

"I am guilty. And Surprised."

The woman smiled. "I'm one of three people in my division who know why I'm here. It's because of a house down the street, I think you know of it, and a surprise visitor."

David smiled. "They're giving you hazard pay, of course? In case the surprise visitor shows up again."

"He can't be that bad," the woman laughed. "He's what? Fifteen?"

"He used to be. Now he's Eleven-year-old twins."

The woman stared at David, and realized he was serious. "I need to talk to my boss."

"Mom," the girl asked, "Is this something I can't tell anyone about?"

The woman laughed. "What? That an out-of-town magus got lost?"

"Is that all?"

David smiled at the girl. "I am an important out-of-town, um, magus."

"If you're so important, then why are you lost."

"I'm was sent to the wrong town by mistake." He added haughtily, "and now I have to find someone to yell at."

* * *

"I know you don't believe me," Ginny said quietly as she finished her story about where she was going and why. 

Aunt Lucinda patted her arm. "Child, what you said is truly fantastic. And I know what I'm talking about."

"I agree," Mallory said, "And I love the idea of red hair. Mine is so plain."

"It becomes you," Ginny said politely.

Mallory grinned. "That's because I don't hop to different dimensions every day to go to parties."

Simon, the other twin, had a question, "And we look exactly like the twins you were with?"

"Yeah, and no. You two are what they would have been if they grew up together in a normal household." Ginny had to pause as everyone laughed. "You are normal?"

Aunt Lucinda calmed down first. "Dear child, normal people don't get attacked by trolls and live to tell the tale." She was looking at Jared when she said that.

Just for something to say, Ginny added, "My brother fought a troll when he was twelve."

"I was nine," Jared said proudly.

"Mom," Simon suggested, "If she can't get back, can Ginny stay with us? She'll pass for a relative."

* * *

David Winter sighed in relief as he sat down on the couch. He was handed a glass of water and a wizard version of aspirin. After draining the glass, he looked at Dewey and Erik who were standing in front of him. 

"Dewey, you're taller."

"Different time flow," Dewey explained. "I've been here for almost sixteen months. The new Harry Potter book just came out, by the way."

"Have you read it?"

Dewey nodded. "If I go back now, what would the date be?"

"June 27, the same year you left."

"Oh."

"You know?"

"Anybody who's read up to chapter five knows all about it."

"Anything else I should know?" David asked.

"Well, the show was cancelled and I had a part in a Christmas movie. And I did this great voice-over in another movie."

Erik sighed. "Well, my life's screwed up. How do I tell everyone I shrunk six inches?"

"You don't," Miklos Abercrombie told them. "We switch bodies. Or minds, if you prefer to think of it that way."

Erik's mom was the first to recover. "You can do that?"

Dewey was second. "But Erik can't do magic."

Abercrombie laughed. "Of course he can. He's a natural suppressant, just like you."

"Me?"

"Ever have anything unusual happen before you found out about magic?"

"No."

"Same with Erik."

"Wait," Erik said. "Malcolm had me try his wand. It didn't work."

"Try Dewey's wand. You've been around magic long enough."

Erik waved the wand and a stream of silver and gold stars appeared. "How?"

David was the only one to notice Miklos' sudden hand movement.

"The question is when," Abercrombie said. "Considering the flux in the time streams, I don't know when Malcolm will show up. David, is this an important date for you?"

"Chapter Five," Dewey said, "Harry Potter goes to the Weasleys."

Miklos nodded at the reminder. "And your part, David?"

"Backup. In case anything goes wrong. We portkey him to friends in the states. I have five men at strategic points. They're not involved with anything. They just stand and wait. All of the portkeys are designed to activate automatically, but only if Potter makes contact."

"Um, Mister Winter."

David recognized Dewey's tone and grimaced. "What is it?"

"I can take you back if it's really important." Every adult was glaring at him. "I mean, I think I can, and I didn't want to if I didn't have to, you know, in case it doesn't work." All but one adult was glaring at him.

"Do you mean like the way it didn't work this time?" David asked.

"Uh, yeah. But . . ."

"But what?"

"This is the part you're not going to like. Ginny's supposed to be at her house tonight."

David frowned. "This is absurd. Fine. Miklos, who plays Ginny in the movies and can we talk to her? Dewey, You had better get this right or we're done for."

"She's not Ginny Weasley's twin," Miklos told him. "It won't work."

"Wait a minute," Erik's dad protested, "what is so important about this?"

David took the floor. "Look, Mister. We have a madman loose in our universe who wants to destroy the world. And thanks to your world, we have a book of prophecy. If every event in that book takes place, we win."

The man looked abashed. "It's all real? It's really real?"

"For us," David replied. "It's very real."

"Do you need Erik?"

"We might," David admitted.

"Then we'll all go this time. We'll stay out of the way as much as possible, but we want to be with our real son. Dewey's a great kid, but . . . Erik is ours."

* * *

David had a brief conversation with Miklos Abercrombie once they were in private. 

"Why the ruse?"

Abercrombie gave the man a very serious look. "Mind wipes. We have problems of our own. We can't find them, but we have other visitors. At least two. Our best guess is they were just passing through but they could still be here. If they are, Dewey could be the beacon. It . . . gets complicated after that." He paused. "You might consider keeping the entire family there."

"It's dangerous enough as it is. I can't even guarantee that I will get them there, and I may not be able to send them back." David added with emphasis, "If I can, I will return them, for their own safety."

Miklos nodded. "We'll work our way around it, then. As long as Dewey is definitely leaving. And . . . about Malcolm?"

"I have no idea."

Abercrombie nodded.

* * *

"Okay," David Winter said, "The fake Ginny is in place. She's nervous, but she has every reason to be." 

"That's nice, dear," Mrs. Winter said. "You're always good at covering your ass."

"Not just mine, this time," David noted, "Dewey, what are you thinking?"

"Malcolm's formula. Parts of it are like arithmancy. If you change the numbers, you get different results. If that shared enhancement spell is right, then . . . Look, Mister Winter, I'm not as smart as Malcolm. He told me the spell because he didn't think I could understand it. But I had more than enough time to figure it out. And I have three possibilities."

"Are they good possibilities?" David dared to ask.

"One is, and the other two stink. Either all three of them made it, but to a different dimension, that's the good one. The other two are that only some of them did or none of them did."

David paled. That wasn't what he was thinking about when he asked about possibilities. Everyone was always so confident about Malcolm's genius, no one thought he could mess up. And forgetting about the shared enhancement, again, would not look good on his permanent record. "Well, we know that last one is false. And we know you will find the right spell. Should I ask the chances of finding this other dimension quickly."

"Tomorrow," Dewey said as he lay down on the couch.

"That soon, " David said appreciatively. He looked down and saw the boy was asleep, and tomorrow was when he would find out how soon.


	6. Where No Man Has Bothered To Go Before

**Chapter 6: Where No Man Has Bothered To Go Before**

"Okay, where are we," Malcolm said to the general darkness.

"I have no idea," Nob said from nearby.

"Nob, why are you here?"

"I have no idea?"

"Is anyone else here?"

"My guess is no. They would have said something."

"I can't see anything," Malcolm noted.

"You must be facing me," Nob said. "I can see a light in the distance."

Malcolm turned around, and the light was there. There was a touch on his shoulder, and he turned to see Nob, but barely. Even from a foot away it was like looking at a fading picture.

"Shall we?" Nob suggested. And both boys began walking toward the distant beacon. Neither felt embarrassed about holding the other's hand. It was the only way to guarantee they wouldn't be separated.

* * *

Dewey cast the spell as David Winter held on to him. They disappeared from the living room and reappeared . . . in the living room, but a different house. David Winter was sitting in the easy chair, smoking a pipe and eyeing them. In another chair, a gentleman the same age was staring at them in horror and fascination. 

"Whoops," Dewey said.

"You are obviously in the wrong place," the sitting David Winter said to the standing one. His English accent was impeccable. "Or would it be the wrong time? Your clothes are a completely different style than mine, and one I am not familiar with. Are you from the future?"

"Not exactly," David said, marveling at how astute his counterpart seemed to be. "Sorry, to bother you, but we are in the wrong place."

"A parallel universe, then," the man concluded. He pointed his pipe at Dewey. "And your companion appears confused. He did not have the result he expected, and is unsure of what to do." He leaned forward, eagerly. "I have some free time. Perhaps I could be of help."

Dewey stared at him, then at Mister Winter, then back at the man. "Yeah."

"Dewey?" David questioned.

"It's cool, Mister Winter. I know who he is." Dewey turned to the staring man. "I've read everything you wrote. I'm a big fan. Um, can I get your autograph?"

"Later," pipe-smoking David said, "Let him recover from the shock first." He looked at standing David. "There's cognac on the tray. A glass might help the doctor, and you might like a glass as well."

David nodded and poured the drinks. Dewey pulled out his notebook and explained what he was trying to do and what all the figures meant. In short order, the doctor had recovered and was asking questions of his own. He even pulled a sheet from his own notebook and gave Dewey an autograph. On a whim, he asked his associate to sign it as well, as the boy would appreciate it.

Two hours later, Dewey and David thanked their new friends for the help. Not only was the immediate problem solved, how to get back, but Dewey also understood how and why he made his mistake. He knew enough, now, to take them back and then to the proper destination. And he asked to visit again.

After they popped out of the room, the doctor beamed at his friend. "That was an amazing evening, Holmes, and you were the most amazing thing about it. Do you honestly think they will come back?"

"The boy will, Watson. He's a musician. Do you notice? He was looking at my violin when he asked if he could return."

* * *

Ginny was fitting in perfectly at the Spiderwick Estate. She even offered to take that as her last name, since she was to be the granddaughter of Aunt Lucinda's brother. And she had already been accepted as one of the family. She was brought to the local high school to watch 'cousin' Mallory in a fencing competition. At least two of the boys on her team asked how long she was staying. She said it was open-ended but she didn't think it would be for too long. At least she hoped. When they frowned, she added that she hoped it wouldn't be too long before she knew. She said yes when one of them offered to give her a tour of the town. 

The family was wonderful. She entertained them with stories of growing up as a witch, and of going to school. And they introduced her to the resident hobgoblin and brownie, as well as fairies and sprites. Jared even promised to take her to see the elves, or try to, after hearing about house elves. It was almost lunchtime, when the popping noise was heard.

"Hey, Beetle butts," Hogsqueal was heard shouting. "That girl you want is in the dining room. That way."

Ginny wasn't there when David and Dewey arrived in the dining room. She was with Helen to help Aunt Lucinda. (The old woman insisted, on occasion, to preparing the meals.)

"David Winter, young lady," he said to Mallory, "and my companion, Dewey. I do apologize for interrupting your meal."

"I'm Mallory Grace, and you haven't interrupted anything yet. Please join us. We have been expecting you, in a way."

David thanked her, and turned to the twins. "I'm just glad the two of you are here and safe." Anger was apparent in his voice. "I would like to know, Malcolm, why you are still here? And do you know what happened to Ginny"

"I'm not Malcolm," Jared explained.

"Malcolm?" David asked the other boy, and frowned when Simon shook his head.

"Dopplegangers," Dewey explained.

"Ahh," David Winter said. He looked back at Mallory. "But you said you were expecting us?"

"DEWEY," Ginny shouted as she came in, carrying a bowl of pasta. She quickly set it down and hugged the boy. Then she hugged David. "You made it," she said happily. "Uh, where's Malcolm?"

"We don't know," Dewey said, sadly.

"You're staying for dinner. Mallory?"

Mallory smiled. "I can take care of this. Simon, grab two more plates. Jared, get two chairs and don't give me any crap. I'll move everything around to make room." She looked up as Helen walked into the dining room with a cart containing sausages and sauce, and a pitcher of lemonade. "Mom, the company came."

* * *

"This is stupid," Malcolm said. "That light isn't getting any closer." 

"It is," Nob insisted. "It's at least twice as big as when we first spotted it. We have to be at least halfway there."

Unmollified, Malcolm grumbled, but he began walking a little bit faster.

* * *

"What I don't understand," Mallory said, "is why you want me to pretend to be Ginny. Why can't she be herself? Although I like the idea of traveling back in time." 

"I'm not sure," David explained. "I thought at first it was because we found you with Malcolm and Nob, but now . . . I'm a blasted fool." He turned to Ginny. "When you use the timeturner and go back in time, tell me you're a fake Ginny. If you don't, I'll become too comfortable, knowing I'm going to succeed in my plan."

"Then there's no rush? I can go on my date tonight?"

"She moves fast," Dewey said.

Simon snickered. "Her first week here and she already has two boyfriends."

Dewey nodded. "Yeah, she has two boyfriends back home, too."

Ginny scowled. "Dewey, you just reminded me why I don't like you."

"You'll like this. There's something you've got to do when you get back. If you get the chance, you have to kiss Harry Potter."

Ginny laughed. "That's a given,"

"Are you serious?" Mallory asked mischievously.

"He is so cute. He has this great lost puppy look."

Dewey couldn't help it. "You also said that about Draco Malfoy."

Everyone was grinning, and Ginny refused to be embarrassed. Mallory, however had something to add.

"Ginny, you said the same thing about Jared, but you never tried to kiss HIM."

A twinge of pity entered her heart when Ginny saw Jared blush furiously as everyone laughed. "Mallory," she said with a smile, "kissing him would be like kissing my brother. I have six of them. I know what I'm talking about."

The look Jared gave her told her one thing. If she ever had another brother, it would be him.

The meal was filling, and the polite conversation complete. Dewey was talking furiously with David as Ginny said her goodbyes and made a phone call to cancel her date.

"Mrs. Grace," David said as politely as possible. "I have a serious problem, and I would like to ask for your help. Feel free to say no, and I expect you to."

"Ginny told us about her world, and the problems." Helen was eyeing the man carefully. "What exactly do you want with Simon and Jared? They are not wizards even if they do resemble your own set of twins."

"It isn't anything serious. I need them to attend a wedding. As guests. Malcolm and Nob are expected to be there, and we have no idea what happened to them."

"A wedding? Ginny's brother?" Helen began to laugh. "And how dangerous is it?"

"There are so many wards around the place, I live next door and I can't even find their house without a guide. They'll be completely safe. I would stake my life on it."

* * *

"This is amazing," Simon said as he looked around. 

The red-haired boy who was escorting them was not amused.

"Look at that," Jared said as he pointed at almost everything. "This is great. I'm glad we came."

"Me, too," Erik said, happily. They were shown their seats, and he added to the usher, "Thanks, Barny." He turned to the twins and whispered. "It's too bad we didn't get one of Ginny's brothers. Ron's nice but Fred and George are great. And remember, the Weasley twins were there when you two changed."

"I have a question," Jared asked. "Ginny said it. Mister Winter said it. And now that Barny kid said it. Why does everyone assume I'm the one who's Malcolm?"

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over them.

"Thought I'd say hi to you boys before I sat down," Hagrid told them. He looked directly at Jared. "Congratulations, Malcolm. Ye made the front page of the Daily Prophet. Again." He leaned down and whispered, "Wit' this picture, yer now the tenth most featured person ever."

"Gee, thanks . . ." Jared said. He had no idea who this man was.

"Hagrid," Erik said quickly. "How many more until Number Nine."

"Now this ain't just headlines, mind you. To count, ya have to have yer name in the headline and yer picture, clearly, on the front page. And it can't be the same picture."

"How many?"

"Only two, but it's eight more after that for the number eight spot."

Fred appeared at that moment, and interrupted. "I checked out the goblin's guesses. The bookmakers used to give it even money you'd make the top five before you graduate. Now, it's even that you reach the number three spot, behind Dumbledore and Ulric the Oddball."

Hermione, who had come over to say hello, and who had paused to listen to Fred's remark, had to ask the question. "Why is Ulric the Oddball in the second spot?"

"He isn't," Fred answered, "Dumbledore is?"

Hermione shook her head and turned to talk to Dewey and 'the twins' while Fred gave Hagrid directions on where he was to sit. She couldn't help herself. She reached down and pinched Jared's cheek. "Malcolm, you are so cute like this."

* * *

"Mister Winter?" Dewey looked concerned. 

"Everything will be fine. Don't worry. It's only a wedding."

"Mister Winter." Dewey was more than concerned. "Don't you think things are getting out of hand? We could have made up some excuse. They aren't mentioned in the book. Neither am I for that matter. AND THEY ARE IN DANGER."

"I KNOW THAT." David Winter frowned. "I know that, Dewey. But I had one very good reason. Malcolm has to be there. Gabrielle is there. And because Malcolm is there, Nob has to be there as well. THEY will expect them to be there."

Dewey didn't say anything else. He didn't have to. They had touched on this subject before. Malcolm had to be where he was expected. Without a word, he excused himself. Erik was at the wedding, and he and Ginny would keep their eyes on the two boys. Before he left the room, he turned around again. "Sir."

"I did warn them," David said. "I told them what to expect. And I even asked them at the last moment if they wanted to back out." He turned around in anger. "Do you think I like using people, strangers, children, simply to make sure the job is done? If Malcolm . . . If I . . . If I weren't such a fool." David looked down. "Did you know? I used to brag about the things he did. And I made it big because of him. From a school monitor who sends out owls every time some kid misbehaves, to the highest ranking diplomatic post in American Wizardry. Because I can handle Malcolm. That means I must be able to handle anything. I have to do this for him. Keep him alive until he comes back to take his place."

"But what if Malcolm doesn't come back?"

Dewey said it. The one thing no one wanted to say. He and David were looking at each other, across the years, as equals. They were partners in an effort to keep their world on the right track.

"Dewey, go upstairs where everyone else is waiting. And be ready. I am expecting the worst." At Dewey's questioning look, David answered. "One of my men never returned. He was never found. If I am right, someone knows my involvement."

"We should all leave," Dewey insisted.

"I have an appointment with the Minister, tomorrow morning. If I disappear, that means I know something that I shouldn't know. They will suspect a spy. They will suspect everyone. And there is only one logical conclusion for them to make."

"Mister Winter?"

"Those boys will be fine. You know what to do once you get back. But let everyone know . . . let everyone think that it will all turn out well. You can take everyone back to their homes afterwards. That will give Malcolm an extra month."

"Mister Winter?"

"Dewey."

"It was nice knowing you."

"Upstairs, now. We'll talk about this in the morning."

He looked out the window. There was nothing to see except a beautiful sunset. No one would believe that a huge party was going on only a hundred yards away.

* * *

"It's a lantern," Malcolm said as they came close to the light. And as they did, they could see it was mounted over a door. A door without walls. The two looked at each other and shrugged. Malcolm leaned over and grabbed the doorknob. It turned. They opened the door and bright light blinded them. As their eyes adjusted, they could make at a young woman with cat eyes and Vulcan ears staring at them. 

"There's two of you? Do you want smoking or nonsmoking?"

The two boys simply looked at each other.

"Uh, nonsmoking," Nob suggested.

"This way."

The woman stepped away and the boys were able to see inside. It was a restaurant, sort of. It seemed to have a Medieval/Fantasy theme. Torches lit the room as opposed to electric lights. All the tables were made from wood, as were the chairs. And the patrons that they saw! Vikings with sidearms. Victorian gentlemen with spears. And another cat-eyed person, this one smoking a long thin clay pipe. Several other people who probably weren't human at all.

They were led into another room, smaller than the first, perhaps a dozen tables, only two of which were occupied. They were given a table in one of the corners and a pair of menus. The woman smiled and said their waitress would be with them shortly. One of the patrons called to the woman and Malcolm dared to take a look at them. It was a family of four. They appeared human, but were dressed in turn of the century clothes. The man asked for a dessert that was "Truly Scrumptious" and everyone at that table laughed at some hidden joke. The people at the second table didn't even look human. They looked like mobile plants.

"What the . . ." Nob began to say, then stopped. An older woman, normal looking, was standing in front of them.

"HI, I'm Naomi. Can I get you anything to drink while you look at the menu?"

Malcolm and Nob looked at each other and smiled. "Two beers," Malcolm said cheerfully.

"Ginger, Birch, Root or Butter?" Naomi asked.

"Huh?"

"Look," Naomi told them. "I can tell the two of you are human. So am I. That means I know you're kids. The only beer you get has no alcohol in it. Before, during or after it was made."

"Um, Naomi," Nob dared to ask. "About the menu? It has 173 pages and an index."

"It must be your first time, here. It has no idea of your preferences. Go with the meat loaf. It's usually a safe bet. And drinks?"

"Root beer," Malcolm muttered.

"Something green," Nob said on a dare. "And not too sweet."

Naomi smiled . "Coming right up."

"Wait?" Malcolm called. "You can do that?" Naomi nodded, and crossed root beer off her order pad. "Not too sweet is a good idea, also green, but not the same as his. And not a juice."

"Do you want it hot or cold?"

Malcolm stared. "Yeah?"

Naomi smiled and walked off to place their order.

"Malcolm," Nob asked. "How are we going to pay for all of this?"

"I don't care," Malcolm answered. "After all that walking, I'm starved."

"Here, you are," Naomi said, two minutes later. She set a tall glass in front of Nob. A greenish liquid on ice. "Kiwi tea." She leaned down and whispered, "And the refills are free."

Nob picked up the glass and drank. He answered her questioning look with a smile. She turned to Malcolm and sat a long but fluted glass in front of him. The liquid in it was light green and milky. "I went with cold. You look like the mint chocolate chip milkshake type."

"I love this place," Malcolm said.

* * *

Jared was fascinated by everything. And when the vows were made, he couldn't help but applaud with everyone else. They were applauding the newly married couple. He was applauding the fireworks. 

When his jaw finished dropping, he was standing on the edge of a golden dance floor. All of the chairs were now around tables. And the dancing began. A slow waltz for the first dance of the bride and groom. Other couples joined them. Jared felt someone force their way between him and Simon. He recognized her as the sister of the bride. She was looking at both of them with curiosity.

"Malcolm?" she asked.

Ginny was there to help. "She's Malcolm's girlfriend. I told her what happened."

"Are you Malcolm?" Gabrielle asked Simon. "We are expected to dance."

"Oh, dance?" Simon was suddenly nervous. "I guess, um, Jared is the better dancer."

Gabrielle turned to Jared. "I promise not to kiss you, but I have to dance with Malcolm."

"I can't dance," Jared admitted.

"Then I will lead," Gabrielle told him.

Jared walked with her onto the dance floor. He put his arm around her waist as he was supposed to and took her other hand in his. And, from somewhere inside him, he found the courage not only to dance, but to enjoy it.

The first dance ended, and Jared stood there. "I know I'm supposed to say something, but I can't think of anything."

Gabrielle took her hand out of his and held it to his lips. "Then say nothing. There is no need to talk."

Relief filled Jared and he smiled at the girl. He knew from the few words they had exchanged and from the way she guided him while they danced that she cared deeply for Malcolm. And that Malcolm, wherever he was, cared for her as well. And he could see in her face the regret that he was not Malcolm.

"I'm sorry."

"You have no need to be sorry."

"I'm sorry I'm not the man you want me to be. I mean . . . "

"I know what you mean," Gabrielle told him gently. "But who you are is . . ."

They looked over to see the Weasley twins with a couple of Gabrielle's Veela cousins. One of the cousins laughed. "You 'ave eet backwardz, Gabrielle, zey fall in love with you."

"NO," Gabrielle said quickly to Jared, "we will walk away."

Jared glanced over to where Simon was standing. Ginny was next to him. They both looked like they were laughing. Ginny was holding her hand to her mouth. Jared saw what she was doing, what she meant. He turned and glared at the Veelas and the Weasleys. "She's got it right." He looked at Gabrielle, and winked. Then he said, as Frenchly as he could, "_Je te adore_."

Gabrielle answered in kind, and they kissed lightly on the lips. As they parted, Jared had to ask, in a low whisper, if it had been too much. Gabrielle answered by giggling, and giving him another swift peck before they broke apart.

It worked. Everyone was convinced he was Malcolm and that things were normal. That meant that he could relax. He proceeded to enjoy himself. Gabrielle talked him into staying on the dance floor. She even talked a cousin her age into dancing with Simon. They paused for some refreshments after the third dance, where Simon tried, unsuccessfully, to get one of the floating champagne bottles to stop. The Veela cousin assured him they were age specific. And then grabbed him for the next dance, this one to a much faster beat.

"Thank you," Gabrielle told him when they were alone. "You are a very good Malcolm."

Jared let out a light laugh. "You made it easy. You and Ginny. Letting me know what to do. I was scared about what would happen." His smile faded. "I have a habit of screwing up. I'm getting better, but . . . I mean, I'm not getting better at . . ."

Gabrielle was giggling again. "I know. I only hope you have no regrets."

Jared smiled. For a girl his age she seemed to understand. She knew the right things to say. She . . . Jared suddenly remembered. She was as old as his sister. And so was Malcolm.

"No regrets?" Gabrielle asked.

"No." It was a lie, but he thought it was what he was supposed to say.

* * *

It was late. That was all Malcolm could think. He tossed in his sleep, and woke when he felt someone punch him in the side. 

"What?"

"That's the third time you hit me with your elbow," Nob complained. "I don't how it's possible. This is a king-sized bed. And since I can't sleep, neither should you."

"Fine."

Malcolm sat up in the bedroom they were in. The fireplace glowed with embers that would last until morning. The room was comfortably small without being claustrophobic. And their clothes had already been returned, cleaned and pressed, sitting on the side table near the door.

"Now I can't sleep," Malcolm complained. "I mean, if I knew where I was. If I knew how to get out of here."

"If you knew how to get out of paying the bill," Nob added helpfully.

"Exactly." Malcolm looked at the clothes. "Nob?"

Nob got out of bed and started to unbutton his pajamas. "Yeah, we should sneak out in the middle of the night. It's safer that way."

Minutes later, the two were dressed and walking down the stairs.

[_You know, this place is bigger than Hogwarts._

After what must have been a dozen staircases and numerous hallways, the two found themselves in a familiar spot. Almost. The long hallway led out to a balcony which overlooked the dining room they had seen upon entering. There was no way down except by jumping over the railing. Or the door on the other side of the balcony. Nob agreed it must be the stairwell, and Malcolm, again, turn the doorknob. The door, again, opened.

The light was dim, but not dark. And the room seemed almost familiar. It was a train station, but that was all Malcolm could make out. There were no trains, though, and the farthest tracks seemed covered in fog. And a man was sitting on a bench against a wall. He was wearing a hat and a trenchcoat.

Letting the door close behind them, they warily approached the man. The situation was too strange to ignore. They had to find out what was going on. As they neared, Malcolm started to reach out his hand, and faltered. As he stood there, unsure of what to do, the man turned his head to look at him. Then he looked at Nob. Sadness filled his face as he turned his head back to the ground.

"Both of you, as well," David Winter asked without emotion. "Then everything I did was useless. Useless."

"Both of us what?" Malcolm asked.

"Mister Winter," Nob asked on his own. "How did you get here? Do you know where we are? Do you know how we can get back?"

David Winter looked up in surprise. "I'm here because I was overwhelmed by Death Eaters. I've only just arrived. How long have you been here?"

"We just came through that door," Nob explained.

"I don't see a door."

"It's there, Sir, really. Even if it doesn't have any walls around it, but that seems normal around here."

"Then you're not dead?" David's voice held surprise, hope and joy.

"Naw, just tired. Couldn't sleep. I think I ate too much."

David jumped up and let out a cheer as he grabbed Nob under the arms and, with surprising strength, twirled him around in a circle until he was too dizzy to continue. He sat the boy down and both were laughing. He turned to Malcolm, and hugged him before the boy could get away.

"Now tell me," he said gleefully. "Where did you end up that you could walk into Death's waiting room."

[_Death?_

Before a stunned Malcolm could answer, another familiar voice spoke. "For a morose man who died in a fight, you are too cheerful," Mrs. Winter said.

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO STAY WITH DEWEY."

Mrs. Winter didn't even Flinch. "I'm supposed to stay with my husband of 47 years."

"I died protecting you."

"And you did a wonderful job. Three of them are definitely dead and one, well, let's just say he will never look at the world the same way." Mrs. Winter smiled. "I was proud of you, dear. And I would have come sooner but I had to make sure that everyone had time to make it out safely."

David scowled. "You should have left with them."

"No," his wife said calmly. "I should have come to help you. As it is, they payed dearly for their attack. Two more died before I fell."

"Three," another voice corrected. Malcolm looked over. A familiar woman with black hair, dressed in goth clothing with a golden ankh hanging around her neck. She waved to Malcolm. Malcolm nervously waved back.

"Who's that?" Nob asked. The woman was watching them. She laughed at Nob's reaction when Malcolm told him. When the boys looked back at the Winters, they were kissing.

* * *

It was chaos. Chairs and tables were being overturned. People were running around. Spells were flying everywhere. Simon and Jared were warned about this but it made no difference. It was still scary. The table they were hiding under flew away. They looked up to see a tall man in a mask looking down at them, wand ready in his hand. 

In Jared's mind he could see the ogre again. His mother lying there, unconscious, his brother and sister held tightly in the monster's grasp. But this monster did not threaten or attack or demand.

"Malcolm, why are you hiding? You know none of us will hurt you."

Jared paused. The masked man knew who he was, was familiar, even friendly, in the tone of his voice. While he was trying to think of what to say, Simon spoke up.

"We weren't worried about what you were planning on doing? I think we were scared of the unplanned things."

The masked man nodded. "You have a good mind, Nob." He reached into his pocket. "Find Dewey. This will take the three of you to a safe place near your home. One that Draco told us about." The man handed Nob a large fork and walked away.

"I never expected that," Simon told his brother. "Where's Dewey?"

"There," Jared pointed.

Dewey was only twenty feet away. When the attack began, Gabrielle had tried to run back to her parents. That was as far as she got. One of the attackers was trying to have some fun when Dewey interrupted. Not Erik, but the real Dewey. And the real Dewey had his wand drawn. Behind him, Gabrielle had fallen to the ground. The man he was pointing at had his wand drawn. Dewey was yelling at the man.

"DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? DO YOU?"

Without hesitation, the twins ran over to him. Jared helped Gabrielle to her feet to find she had sprained an ankle. Simon grabbed his hand and forced him to touch the fork. Dewey was saying something about hasty vistas and babies. And the world went funny.

* * *

"Mister Winter?" Malcolm dared to ask, "what happened?" 

"It's easy. We died. And I came here to wait," David looked around. "Now I remember. Dear, it's Union Station, in Washington, before they did all the reconstruction." He turned back to Malcolm. "Let Dewey know that I was wrong. I wasn't found out. I was betrayed."

Malcolm paused. Death was explaining to Nob how she first met Malcolm, and how it wasn't that long ago. He decided to change the subject. He had thought of something and he was curious.

"Mister Winter, you said you don't see the door me and Nob came in by."

"A door?" Mrs. Winter asked. "I don't see one."

"It's supposed to be somewhere over there," David explained.

"It is," Malcolm assured them. "I was wondering. If I opened it, would you see it then? Or would you be able to walk through it?"

David smiled and told Malcolm to give it a try. Malcolm opened the door. David shook his head. He could see nothing.

"Malcolm?" Death asked. "What are you doing?"

"I was curious if they could see where we came from, since we can see this place."

"They are dead, Malcolm. They are only here because they earned a brief respite before they move on." She spoke in a mock whisper. "It is one of the rewards of love."

"You can't see the door?" Nob asked, grabbing David's hand.

"No, wait, yes." David was surprised. "It must be because you're touching me. It looks like a hallway?"

Malcolm nodded. "It's kinda like a balcony. One side looks out over the restaurant." He added eagerly, "Check it out." A pause, as he turned to ask Death. "Can they?"

"Only as long as you hold on to them. But if you take them from here, they could be lost."

"Lost? Like Charles?"

Nob was curious. "You mean you won't be able to find them?"

"In a sense. But this is not a case of a little boy not wanting to leave. This would be two adults not staying." She gave David a look of amusement. "It would be an adventure."

David looked at his wife. She was smiling but shaking her head. David smiled at her. "Malcolm, I'm not fond of the idea of getting lost in a hotel. I'll take the other path." He was looking at his wife again. "Where I know we'll be together." He glanced at Malcolm. "If you need me, Dewey knows where to find me."

David embraced his wife, and Death walked up to them. She put a hand on each shoulder, as though to hug them both. They shrank as they faded until only Death was standing there. She looked as though she was holding something that could not be seen. Then she flung the invisible something up into the air.

Perhaps it was because of where they were. Malcolm and Nob heard the sounds of flapping wings. But there was also the sound of a train leaving the station. And they were both the same sound. The last thing they heard was a bird's call that was also a train whistle.

[_They're gone . . . They're gone?_

"Where did they go?" Nob asked.

"What word should I use?" Death asked in turn. "They went away? Ahead? Forward? Beyond? To the next life? The next level? To the afterlife?"

"Excuse me."

[_This is one lady you don't want mad at you._

"Yes, Malcolm?"

"Do you know what Mister Winter meant when he said Dewey would know where to find him?"

"Yes." She pointed to the doorway. "And I have wasted enough time with the two of you. Get back in there and get some breakfast."

"But," Nob pleaded, "I have a hundred questions for you."

Death laughed. "Nob, I won't answer even half your questions, and you don't really know what questions to ask."

"I'm trying to learn."

"Do you know summoning spells?"

"No."

"Learn them. And when you know a question to ask, summon me with a spell."

"I can do that? And you'll really come?"

Death laughed again and pinched Nob's cheek. "You are so adorable. Yes, you can summon me. And no, I won't come." Nob didn't know it but he just gave Death the lost puppy look. "I'll tell you what. If it is a really important question, I will come. I promise."

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

[_I know he sounds stupid, but Nob is only seven. At least he was two days ago._

Death held up a finger. "But it has to be important, and you have to get some breakfast."

Happily, Nob asked, "I'll be seeing you again, won't I?"

"It's a given," Death told him as she faded away.

[_She's laughing again._


	7. The Journey Home

**Chapter 7: The Return Home**

Malcolm and Nob were sitting at a table. It may have been breakfast. It could have been supper. They were trying to accept a fact that seemed impossible. A man they knew, and his wife, had died because of them.

"It's my fault," Malcolm insisted. "I didn't even have to go to that school. I only did it because I thought it would be great not having to be home."

"Yeah," Nob told him. "It's your fault." He looked at his brother. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"My life. If you never went to Hogwarts . . ."

"Yeah . . . well . . . you would still be alive anyway."

"Maybe." Nob paused. "Malcolm?"

"What?" came the surly reply.

"You know how Mister Winter always blamed you for everything?"

"Yeah, so?"

"He didn't blame you for his death."

"He didn't have the chance."

"Yes, he did. When he first saw us. He thought we were dead, too."

Malcolm looked up.

"And he went crazy happy when he found out we weren't."

[_He didn't lose his life, he gave it._

"He knew something," Malcolm realized. "Something we have to do."

Nob smiled as his brother understood what he had already figured out. "He gave his life, to give us the chance, Malcolm." He paused, then said the words his brother was thinking. "We have to find a way to get home."

* * *

It was dark. Jared could not see his hand in front of his face. He felt his way across the floor until he stubbed his toe on a chair leg. 

"OW."

A door could be heard opening, and an unfamiliar voice called out, "Who's there."

There was a shuffling sound and the same voice called out, "Lumos."

As the tip of his wand lit up, Dabney said, "Oh. It's you, Malcolm."

"Hi, Dabney," Dewey said. "What happened to the lights?"

"Oh, nothing." He walked over to the light switch and turned it on. "I just like using my new wand, that's all. It works really well." He eyed the four people in his living room. "This is great. Malcolm, you look exactly like you did the first time I ever saw you. Are you Gabrielle? The girl that actually likes Malcolm?"

Dabney did not stop talking as he led them into his bedroom, where it didn't matter if he said anything. Jared was staring at the stained glass window on the ceiling four stories above. (Not bad for a ranch house, Dewey commented.) Simon was walking toward the floor to ceiling aquarium as though he was in a dream. And Gabrielle was looking at Dabney and wondering if all of Malcolm's muggle friends were like this.

"Oh," Dabney said at one point. "Guest bedrooms are on the second floor. Up the stairs and turn right."

"What happened to Erik?" Gabrielle asked.

"He's home. As soon as," he hesitated. Gabrielle did not know what happened at the house next door. "As soon as we heard the Death Eaters, I took his folks back. Then I came back with his dad and grabbed Erik." He smiled. "And I came back again, just as you tripped."

Gabrielle nodded. "And them?"

Dewey looked at the twins. "Their mom thinks they're safe. I'll wait until the morning." His yawn told Gabrielle the real reason he was going to wait.

Gabrielle gave him a smile that made her seem older than she looked, that almost made her seem her own age.

* * *

The dining room seemed overly crowded. Someone said there was a storm. The table of Space Vikings cheered. "All the more reason to party," one of them yelled. There were no menus this time. Chicken and bread and other finger foods were set on the tables and benches and replaced whenever they were empty. It seemed like a festival. 

Malcolm and Nob had decided to stay in the 'smoking section', simply because it was more fun. And they had been getting bored.

A tall man, almost as big as Hagrid, stood up. "It time to pay your bills. Who's first?"

"Here," A blond Viking said, holding up a cup in his mailed space-suited fist as though to toast the universe. "And I swear upon Odin's beard that every word I speak is the truth, and may I be barred forever from Valhalla if even the smallest word is proven false."

He spoke of when he was a child. His thrall had taken him to see Aiger's Star. Aiger's star was a Supernova that had the shape of a drinking horn when seen from the home planet. This anomaly of shape was because of its origin.

Aiger was the greatest warrior space had ever seen. In the Chaos Wars, he had sent hundreds of his enemies to Valhalla. Many times his battle ship was hit. And more times than you could count on both hands, he was thought to be lost, only to reappear fit for the next battle. Decade after decade he fought, until old age finally overcame him and his enemies had gone. Peace had claimed that entire sector of the galaxy.

"And Aiger cried out, 'Am I doomed to die in a hammock, as though a passenger too long on a voyage. Will Valhalla be forever beyond my reach?'

"And Odin appeared to him in his dream. He told Aiger that if a man died while doing a great deed, he might find himself in the Hall of the Gods.

"Aiger dressed himself in his best armor suit and readied his ship with every armament it could hold. He flew into the wasted areas when no living thing existed. His last message was that when a star dies, its ashes give birth to new suns. He armed his battle ship, and with guns blazing, he dove into the star. The explosion tore the star to pieces. Then Odin appeared to him and gave him a great drinking horn. 'For all who came here by dispensing death, you come by giving life.' Aiger drained the horn and threw it into the wastes of space, where the shattered pieces of the star adopted its shape.

"And it is to honor his deeds that we know the Great Horned Nebula as Aiger's Star."

* * *

"It's time to go," Dewey explained as they finished with breakfast. 

"I'm ready," Simon admitted. "I'm not used to having donuts as breakfast."

Dabney looked surprised. "Why? What do you usually eat for breakfast?"

Simon smiled. "Just eggs and stuff."

"Donuts have more flavors," Dabney explained. "But I have stuff like that when I visit my mom. She's a big TV star in Argentina."

Gabrielle used that as her cue to usher everyone back downstairs and into the living room.

"Okay," Dewey explained to the twins, "What we'll do is I'll take you two home first, then I'll drop Gabrielle off at the Weasley's place. It should be safe by now. Hi, Eric."

"Hi, Dewey," said the figure on the couch watching TV. "Is anyone going to come here because of, say, illegal use of magic by a minor?"

"Naw, I found an apparation spell that can't be monitored."

"Cool, You have another accident with time? You look older."

"Yeah, and it's Malcolm's fault."

"Is that a ghost?" Jared asked.

Dewey looked over at the specter behind the couch. "That's my cousin, Basil. He died a couple years ago. He really likes Dragonball Z. Anyway, form a circle. Not you, Dabney. Are you ready?"

A popping noise boomed inside the room as the four suddenly disappeared.

"That's what I like about Dewey," Eric told Basil. "He made it a point to wait until the commercial."

* * *

Malcolm and Nob agreed they had made a good choice. A tall man stood up, a few tables away. He was dressed as a medieval lord. "It is time to pay the bill." He hung his head as though in prayer before he began. He told of a throne being usurped and of the king being killed. How he was forced to flee for his life, and found refuge in a rustic village. There, he met the two boys. 

The boys were playing with wooden swords and shields, as though they were great warriors in the throws of battle. He watched the boys for a while, then interrupted them. He showed them how to better hold their shields, a more powerful grip for the swords. He had them practice a few standard training stances. And when it was time for them to return to their homes, they thanked him as though he were a great hero.

"And the next day, I led their fathers and uncles away to reclaim my family's throne, and probably left one or both of them an orphan."

* * *

"Where are we?" Jared asked. 

They were standing in a field. In front of them was a mound with some few old pieces of wood sticking out.

"This?" Simon was unsure of himself but spoke anyway. "I think this is our house."

"But?" Jared stared. How long would it take for a house to crumble and be covered by dirt and grass?

Gabrielle looked nervously at Dewey. "What has happened?"

"Some kind of error. We may be in a nearby universe. One where they never moved here."

"Are you sure?"

"We can go to town," Simon suggested. "A newspaper will tell us the date, and we can ask about the house, out of curiosity."

Simon led the way. The path to the road was overgrown with weeds and bracken but he knew where he was going. The gate was no longer there, so they only knew how far they had gone when they reached the road. But it was a road no longer in use. All cracked and broken, and sunken in places. With a shrug, they walked to the main road, only to find it in the same condition.

"We should go back, then try again," Dewey suggested. "Unless anyone has another idea."

"The Elves!" Jared exclaimed. "They're immortal. They can tell us what happened, or if we're in the wrong place." He and Simon began to unbutton their shirts. "Turn your shirts inside out, so you won't get confused." He saw the looks he was receiving but Simon backed him up, telling them it was a way around the elfin magic. Dewey nodded, saying it must be a befuddlement charm, as he and Gabrielle copied the twins.

They began their trek overland. It seemed longer than before, but uneventful. He did not see any sign of the shifting sods, even where he expected them. The Poohka he had met was no longer there, but that could be normal. Yet, a sense of unease filled Jared as he led the others into the dale where the elves lived.

"HELLO," he called out. "IT'S JARED. I NEED TO TALK TO YOU."

"And?" Dewey asked.

"We wait," Simon told him, "and hope they answer."

And they waited, a full twenty minutes.

"Jared Grace. You return with your brother and two strangers. And after such a long time."

Jared looked at the woman, an elf with green leaves worn as a crown.

"We went away for only a day, and we came back to find everything in ruins."

"One day? You should know, Jared, that one day in fairy could be centuries in the mortal realm."

"Centuries?" His mind tried to reject the thought. "Do you know? How long have we been gone?"

"This earth has circled the sun more than four hundred times since last we spoke with each other."

"What happened?" Simon asked. "To the town?"

"What always happens to mortal things when mortals are no longer there. They decay and slowly return to what they once were."

That meant that the town was deserted, Jared knew. "But where did everybody go? My mom, Mallory, Aunt Lucinda."

"We do not know what happens to humans when they die. For that reason, we do not know where any humans are."

"No humans?"

"And little else, Jared Grace."

"Anywhere? Would the other elves . . ."

The elfin woman held up her hand. "There are no other elves. Except for weeds, there is little life left. All the mortals are gone as are their animals. Of the immortals, all but a handful are also gone. Those of us who are left have little hope for the future and we are only here out of habit."

"Why?" It was Gabrielle who dared ask. "What happened?"

"War," the elf said. "Our realms were discovered and you humans acted with your worst instincts. But those of us who fought back had cunning on their side. You," she pointed at Jared, "know full well what some creatures are capable of. You faced one Ogre. Imagine facing a hundred. They were killed but they tricked the mortals into killing themselves, into poisoning the world, for themselves and for us."

Jared explained to Dewey and Gabrielle about ogres. They were shapeshifters. Any shape, any size. Then he added obvious examples. An ogre impersonating a military officer and getting onto a military base, one with nuclear missiles. Or impersonating a scientist and getting into a top secret lab for biological warfare. Only one or two had to succeed to guarantee chaos.

"Do you know how it started," Dewey asked, "or who started it?"

How, the elf did not know. But who, she did have a name. The name of the discoverer. She gave them the name, for what good it would do. Jared and Simon palled. This was all started by their father.

* * *

Stories were told throughout the meal. A centaur told of meeting travelers from the city of the dead, and spending the next ten years touring the worlds with one of their number. An elf told of being a courier to an enemy, his imprisonment and escape, and his revenge. A small woman spoke of how she avenged her husband by seducing his killers and letting them kill each other out of jealousy. 

Eyes turned to their table. Nob looked at Malcolm. It was time to pay the bill. One of them had to tell a story.

[_It's going to be me. Nob doesn't know any stories. But what do I say?_

Malcolm stood up. Then someone shouted that he should stand up. Malcolm stepped onto his chair, then onto the table. Everyone gave a good-natured laugh and watched him with anticipation.

"Well, there was a couple, very much in love, and they had a son. Three times they escaped the Dark Lord. And the prophecy said that their son would be the Chosen One. 'And neither one can live while the other survives.'

"When the boy was one year old, the Dark Lord attacked and killed his parents. Then he attacked the Boy. His magic spell backfired and his body was destroyed. But he did not die. For he had divided his soul into seven pieces, and he would survive as long as even one piece survived."

Malcolm took a deep breath. He had their interest.

"Three times, the Dark Lord attacked the Boy, who lived, and the third time he took some of the boy's blood for the ritual to restore himself. But he could not end the boy's life. Always, someone intervened. When death was inevitable, another was always there to give their life in his stead. Always with the intent to give the boy time to grow, to learn what it is, he must do. And the boy discovered the mystery of his enemy's soul. It was an irony that he had already destroyed one without even knowing what it was. Another, his mentor and friend destroyed, before his own life was taken.

"Then the day came when the boy became an adult. And on that day, he began his quest to destroy his enemy once and for all."

"And what happened then?" It was one of the Vikings, the first one to tell a story. "Speak up, lad. The story can't end there."

"It doesn't," Malcolm answered. The story had not gone as he planned. "The Chosen One became of age the day we came here."

The Viking laughed. "A living story? A story that is still growing from a storyteller who is still growing." His applause was infectious. Malcolm sat down, blushing at all the attention, especially from the people at his own table. A hand came down hard on his shoulder.

It was one of the older Vikings. "Questers sometimes need help from an unexpected quarter. If you need such help, tap this on the ground three times, and we will come." Malcolm was left holding a square cube with a handle on one side, the whole thing maybe three inches in length. With humor he noted that the handle collapsed for easy carrying,

Malcolm looked up to say thanks, but the man had already gone.

* * *

Jared and Simon were back at Dabney's house. They were in the living room, sitting on the couch. The TV was on but neither one would have been able to tell what they were watching. Gabrielle was in the foyer of Dabney's bedroom talking to Dewey. 

"Their world was destroyed. All of it. Not being able to do anything is not an option."

"What can I do?" Dewey demanded.

"I don't know," Gabrielle admitted.

"I do," Dewey said. "It's the one thing my family's always good at doing. I'll lie through my teeth."

Dewey walked back into the living room. "Okay, here's the bad news, we can't go back in time just yet."

The twins looked up. "What?"

"It's hard to explain." Dewey took a deep breath. "My great-grandmother has a time machine."

"You're joking," Jared said.

"No, but there is a problem. We're not completely sure how it works. We may have to wait a while until we can use one of the settings we know of. But it is possible to go back in time, and then I'll take you back your world just before you left it."

"How long?"

"The earliest date is September, the latest will be May or June." Dewey hesitated slightly. He needed to make an excuse but he had a very good one handy. "We have problems of our own right now."

"We heard," Simon retorted.

"Can you really do it?" Jared asked. There was hope in his voice.

"Probably. But it's like I said. I don't know exactly when."

Simon snorted. "Any more bad news?"

"Yeah, you need to meet my parents."

"Why?"

"In this world, you're still Malcolm and Nob. Mom wants to make sure you're okay."

"Your mother knows?"

"Let's just do it," Jared said sadly. "How bad can it be?"

* * *

Piama smiled as she snuggled against Francis's arm. Not enough to disturb his driving, however. "I like this. I even like the idea of seeing your family. Most of them." 

"Timmy is excited, too," the house elf said from the back seat.

"I'm glad," Francis told them. "And Mom has really changed."

"Eight months pregnant, I'm not surprised." Piama smiled again.

"Does it give you any ideas?" Francis hinted.

"About what?" Piama asked, refusing to take the hint. She nuzzled his cheek. "You can keep trying if you want to."

Francis began looking for a motel.

* * *

It was an amazing night, or day, or period of time. Malcolm and Nob had heard dozens of stories, about all sorts of things. 

[_I liked the one about the boy who snuck into the harem._

But the bill had been paid and the meal was over. They were told that the weather had cleared. Naomi was the one who walked them to the door they had entered by. She wished them well and hoped to see them again soon. They stood there. Naomi told them they needed to open the door. Malcolm looked up at her.

"There's nothing there."

Naomi laughed. "Behind that door? Everything is there." She was still laughing as she walked away.

"Malcolm," Nob said carefully. "I know where we are."

"Yeah, we didn't go to a different dimension. We only left our own."

"It's like your spell. All we have to do is think of where we want to be . . ."

"And when," Malcolm added.

Nob nodded his head. Malcolm was referring, in part, to the meal they had finished, a meal that had lasted long enough for sixty or more stories to be told in a room that seemed to grow bigger as it needed to.

"Where and When?" Nob asked. "Home?" He laughed when Malcolm thought he was serious. "Really. Where should we go?"

Malcolm smiled. "We're not really dressed for it."

"I'm not worried."

Malcolm smiled. He opened the door and they stepped through. The door closed quietly behind them.

* * *

Hal answered the door when the boys arrived. He looked at Dewey, who had grown six inches in the last week, and at the two boys, age eleven, who were supposed to be exact doubles of two other boys, aged fifteen and seven. 

"Why can't we have normal problems like other families? Where's Reese?"

"Nob turned him into Draco again," Dewey explained. "He went to visit the Malfoys."

"At least he won't get into any trouble, there. That's one relief."

"Dad?"

"Yes, Dewey."

"Can we come in? It's starting to rain."

Hal stepped out of the doorway and let the three boys enter. "Just wait in the kitchen. Your mother can sort everything out when she gets home."

"Where is she?"

"In the hospital. She gave birth to Jamie two days ago, but it took a lot out of her and she needs to get her strength back."

* * *

"You're perfectly healthy," the nurse insisted. 

"Do you know what I'm facing at home. I love my kids but now I have six of them. Once I get home I won't have any time to myself for the next eighteen years."

The nurse nodded in understanding. "You will have to leave . . . tomorrow. Do you need anything in the meantime?"

"Chocolate BonBons, and could you make it the bigger box this time?"

* * *

Jared looked at Dewey. "Is that it? We just sit in your kitchen until your mother gets out of the hospital?" 

"She must really be sick," Simon said in an effort to show compassion.

"She's faking it," Dewey said in response. "And I hate it. She had that kid on my birthday. That's all I had left. I used to be the youngest, until Nob came along. I have to live with the fact that Malcolm's smarter than me. Not by much but he is smarter. And now, AND NOW, I HAVE to SHARE my BIRTHDAY."

"So do I," Simon answered. "It never bothered me."

"It bothered me," Jared admitted, "always having to share my birthday presents."

"And underwear," Simon admitted. "I can understand having us share clothes when we were younger. But underwear? It just seems wrong."

"You had to share . . . underwear?" Dewey asked in surprise. "I guess that is worse than having to share a birthday."


	8. Next Stop, Hogwarts

**Chapter 8: Next Stop, Hogwarts**

Everyone was gathered around the dinner table, trying to eat.

"You must be excited to have a new brother, Malcolm." Piama was smiling as she avoided looking at Lois.

"Well, he cries all the time," Jared glanced at Lois, "but that just makes it more wonderful."

"I'm going to school in September," Simon noted, trying to remember that he only looked eleven. He turned to Lois. "Excuse me, Ma'am, could we please stop pretending? I'm getting a headache trying to think of dumb things to say."

Hal looked up from his newspaper. "I have no problem with that, Honey. I don't really know what's going on, anyway."

"Fine, make all the mistakes you want," Lois said with exasperation. "I'm just trying to make sure you don't make any mistakes when it matters."

Jared sighed. It was like this almost every day. He and Simon shared a room with Dewey, which was bad enough. They were used to having their own rooms. And the baby did seem to cry ALL THE TIME. Now Francis was home and the living arrangements were changed around. They were now sleeping in the garage. With the house elf.

Jared wasn't homesick. He didn't have time to be homesick. Between all the chores they had to do, and being constantly reminded to remember they were not who they were. And the worst thing of all was, just when it seemed like they would get a break, the stupid house elf would twiddle his fake mustache and say, "let me help you with that, pardner."

"Why," Jared asked helplessly, "do I have to be Malcolm? Why can't I be the nice brother?"

"You don't have one," Lois said as she cut at her meatloaf. "The closest you have is Nob, and he's you with less experience. Consider yourself lucky. Reese has to pretend to be Draco and live in that big mansion with servants and everything. You can't tell me he's having a good time. And Draco, he's stuck being Malcolm because he can't be himself or it'll cause problems. Do you think he's happy?"

"No, I'm not," Draco/Malcolm said as he grabbed another slice of meatloaf. "You could at least cancel the spell, you know."

"Can't change you back if we have to," Lois said. "Nob's missing."

Draco scowled.

[_I swear. I'm going to find a way to pay Malcolm back for this. I could be home right now, having dinner with . . . oh, yeah, we have a house guest. Never mind._

"You're right, Aunt Lois. It could always be worse."

Simon nudged his brother. "Don't worry. We'll make it through this. I know you can deal with it."

And Jared's bad mood faded for a few hours. Simon was smarter than him. He was always able to figure puzzles and things out without a problem. If he wasn't worried, then there was no reason to be. Soon, they would go to Hogwarts, to the time machine, and begin the journey home. To find out how and why their father did what he did.

"Us," Jared said suddenly. "Simon, he did it because of us. That's right, isn't it."

Simon nodded. "My guess is when we disappeared, he came to the house. He found the book and believed what he read. And because we never came back . . ."

"Say, pardner . . ."

Simon turned at once, "Timmy, this is something we don't need help with."

"Huh," Timmy said. "You have company."

* * *

Fred Weasley smiled as he looked at the twins. "This is amazing. If this works, it will be the greatest prank I've ever played. Hold up your wand hands, please."

The two boys held up their right hands. Fred pulled two wands out of his pocket and gave each boy a wand. "Keep them up," he admonished. He pulled out his own wand, waved it and shouted dramatically, "Replicatus Observus." Lightning flashed between his own wand and the other two. "Done. And please remember. These are test models. Please keep track of your progress and any difficulties you may have."

Simon raised his left hand. "Are these supposed to be magic wands?"

"Mimic wands," Fred answered cheerfully. He pointed to Johnny, an eighteen-year-old with a scraggly beard. "I have to admit it wasn't my idea, but my brother and I did help to make an improved version."

"This is really cool, little dudes," Johnny told them. "You got your eight basic spells, like Lumos and Accio. And you can program it to hold eight other spells, as long as they're under NEWT level. Way under. The wands can't handle the more complicated spells. But you guys are going to be first years, so you don't have to worry. I gave one to Dabney, and he swears by it. Some kid even apologized for calling him a squib."

"Um, cool, thanks," Jared said, then did the complicated hand shake thing that Johnny taught him.

"Hey, I owe you guys, at least the guys you're supposed to be. I met Fred and George because of you, uh, them, and they have some kick-ass ideas, too."

Fred smiled. "And we are now the European distributors of JD Spaces."

The twins nodded. They saw the advertisement: A Castle In Your Closet.

* * *

The Gryphon eyed the two boys in front of him. The boys stared right back at it. Finally, one of the boys spoke.

"Dennis, is that you?"

"Dennis?" Nob asked.

"Yeah, he's an illegal animagus. He'll be a fourth year."

"And he's a Gryphon?"

"A noble choice," the Gryphon said solemnly. "A promising wizard filled with courage and wisdom."

[_This is really cool. I didn't laugh._

Malcolm looked up at the dragon and the winged horse. "Where are we?"

"My house," a pale blond man said as he walked through the door that these three creatures surrounded. "As you were passing through my kingdom, I thought I would see for myself why my sister has taken such an interest in you."

"Sister?" Nob asked. "Who are you? Sir?"

"Daniel." The man smiled at a private joke. "Yes, I suppose you are enough of a curiosity. I will let you continue on your way. And I apologize for delaying you on your journey. There. I believe I have made up for what I have done. Now you are dressed properly."

Malcolm had time to look at Nob, and to glance at himself. He was wearing the finest dress robes he had ever seen. Black on black with silver buttons and trim that seemed to shine yet also enhance the darkness of the robes. And Nob, his robes were dark blue with a faint luminescence to accentuate his features.

[_We look good. Heck, we look great._

* * *

Draco was, in a word, annoyed. He had spent more time as an owl than he had as a human being, and those times he spent as Malcolm. He even spent a few nights at the Burrow, sleeping in the corner with an old owl named Errol. In a last ditch effort to return to normal, he flew to his cousin's house, only to find out that Nob had disappeared along with Malcolm, that the two were now twins, and that his aunt had gone to some rental service for a pair of replacements.

On the other hand . . .

"Malcolm," Draco said smoothly to whichever twin he was talking to. "You really should test your wand, you know. To make sure it works."

[_I've decided. If he looks like Malcolm, I'll call him Malcolm. I don't care._

Simon stared at his wand. "I don't know."

"I'll do it," Jared said, "just because you didn't call ME Malcolm. What spell should I try?"

"Well?" Draco acted as thought he really was thinking. "Wait, I know. Can you cancel a spell? I have a charm that I was going to get rid of, but I can let you try it."

Jared looked at the list that came with his wand. "Yeah, it's number seven. Finite . . ."

"It's pronounced Fin - ee - tay," Draco explained.

Dewey counted down from five to one then looked expectantly at the doorway to the kitchen

"IT'S PRONOUNCED DON'T YOU DARE," Lois yelled from the kitchen.

[_Dang._

* * *

"Francis," Piama said lovingly as they lay quietly in the bed. "You were wonderful."

"Why, thank you, my lady."

She laughed. "I'm not talking about just that. I'm talking about everything. The way you've been handling your mother. You even have her talking to me like I'm a real person. And the way you take time to help out with things. You've changed during this vacation and for the better."

"I guess I just needed to relax."

"And you need to stay relaxed. Francis, promise me something. I know it will make things hard for us financially, but it'll be worth it. I just don't want you to go back to being the person you were. Please, quit your job. Let's not even go back to that ranch. I want a husband who cares about me."

Francis thought about it, carefully. "You're my wife. You come first in my life. Consider it done."

Piama hugged Francis for all he was worth. And Francis hugged her back. Now he would never have to tell her that he was fired.

* * *

"Don't try anything," Simon warned. Draco shrugged his shoulders. They weren't going to cast the spell he wanted, so he didn't care.

"We should make sure they work," Jared insisted. "I won't do anything dangerous. This first one." He followed the instructions on how to hold the wand and called out, "Lumos." The tip of his wand emitted a soft glow. "Cool."

A popping noise was heard at the same time that Lois shouted, "What did you do, Malcolm? Tell Dave I'll bring him a cup of coffee in a minute."

Everyone froze as David Winter appeared in the living room. He glanced at all four boys in the room. "Malcolm? You're teaching your relatives to break the rules already? And who are these boys? Dewey, you did nothing wrong. Why are you looking at me as though you've seen a ghost?"

"Um, habit," Dewey said, and kept staring.

David gave him a glaring look and turned back to the twins. "And I'm going to hate this, but how are you two related to Malcolm?"

"Dave," Lois called cheerfully, "Here's your coffee." She then grabbed the wand out of Jared's hand. "You'll get this back little Mister after you get on that train." She grabbed Simon's wand for good measure, as a baby began to cry. "They're all yours, Dave, I've got a priority." And Lois disappeared into the bedroom.

David took a sip of the coffee, and smiled. "As good as I remember." He glanced at the twins. "It seems my problem is solved. I won't even give you a warning."

Draco saw his chance. "Mister Winter, I was wondering if you could do me a favor. You know Nob. He likes me for some reason."

David smiled. "Just let him get to know you better, Malcolm, and the problem will solve itself." He took another swallow of the coffee. "From the looks of it, I may not get a chance to visit again." He drank the rest of the coffee and handed the mug to Malcolm. "I'll see you again on the 31st, to take you to Kings Cross."

"MISTER WINTER," Dewey shouted, "could I talk to you, in private, please. It's really important."

"Of course."

They walked into the kitchen and out into the yard. They stopped near the fence.

"I need to ask," Dewey said.

"You thought I was dead?" David wasn't smiling. "Did you see me die?"

"No, I left as soon as I heard . . ."

David was nodding his head. When Dewey paused, he did smile. "When you heard the Death Eaters?" Dewey nodded. "Well, I didn't die. Not that I didn't escape completely unharmed." His smile faded and his voice took a serious tone. "Dewey, I don't remember everything. It's like there's still a fog in my head. They didn't try to kill me. They tried to control me. I escaped them, and did them considerable harm, I remember that. I remember who I am, my duties in general. I'll be honest. I know I said something wrong from the way Malcolm looked at me, but I can't . . . I don't know what."

Dewey's eyes went wide. He had never thought of that possibility. "You're lucky. I heard they messed up the same way on one of the Prime Minister's aides, and now all the guy does is quack like a duck. I think he waddles, too."

"I am lucky," David admitted. "And every day I'm reminded about how lucky I am. And I'll be honest with you. Most of what I remember about your family is little more than what I wrote in the reports. I need to know. What did I do wrong with Malcolm?"

"Nothing, that's Draco."

"Draco Malfoy? I didn't recognize him."

"Yeah, Nob turned him into Malcolm so that he could escape after Snape killed Dumbledore. He's supposed to be staying with Malcolm's girlfriend but he got bored. He wants someone to change him back. Mom says he has to stay like that. At least until school starts."

"And the two boys . . ."

Dewey paused. Instinct said to not tell 'where' they came from. "I told them how you're trying to cover for Malcolm, and they agreed to pretend. One will be Nob and the other one is Malcolm. Until my brothers show up again. Their mom even agreed, as long as my mom tells her everything." He smiled widely. "It's okay. No need to worry."

"Then I won't," David told him. "And now, I have to get back to work. Give Draco my apologies." He apparated.

Dewey sighed in happy relief. In all of this something good had happened. An hour ago he was still mentally kicking himself for not telling anyone about that night. Now he was mentally jumping for joy.

* * *

"Hey, guys," Dabney called out to the roomful of teenagers. "This is Malcolm, version 3.1, and his brother."

Jared looked around the game room. He was very impressed. But now he was curious. "Malcolm 3.1?"

"He's cute," a girl said to her boyfriend. "I'm Belinda and this is Lloyd. You're going to have a great time being Malcolm."

Jared looked at his brother for help but Simon was laughing. He finally decided to try again. "How many other people have been Malcolm." He glanced at Draco. "Besides him."

"Not many," Dabney pointed out. "Draco was Malcolm when he lived in England. He covered for us while we competed in the Mental Olympics. Until we were thrown out for cheating."

"It was great," Lloyd added. "We even made it to the finals. Two weeks, all expenses paid, in London England, and the sponsors didn't even demand their money back."

"I wish I had known you then," Belinda said with a hint of jealousy.

"Last year we had this French kid as Malcolm," Dabney continued.

Jared stared at Dabney. "You had somebody from France pretend to be Malcolm, I mean, pretend to be me?"

"Not exactly. He moved to France after he was done playing Malcolm."

"I don't blame him."

"And there's Mallory," Belinda mentioned.

"That's my sister."

"Yeah, we know. Your twin sister, before you decided to have a twin brother as well. I guess now she's your older sister."

"And there's Nob," Draco added. "He actually decided to be Malcolm."

"But . . ." Jared paused. "Isn't he supposed to be smart?"

"He's . . . supposed . . . to be . . ." Stevie admitted. "He likes . . . Malcolm."

"And why do I have to be Malcolm?" Jared wanted to know.

"You . . . look like . . . Malcolm. Any . . . more . . . questions?"

"Yeah, why are Lloyd and Belinda wearing bathing suits."

Eric answered this question. "Swimming pool is on the fourth floor. Spare suits are available in the changing room."

Jared decided he could like being Malcolm.

* * *

Hal snuck up behind his wife and gently kissed the back of her neck. Lois started to complain, but gave it up as a lost cause. The baby was sleeping, and everyone else was out of the house.

"Honey," Hal asked, "before we get too involved, I wanted to know something. Why aren't you worried about any of this?"

"Why aren't you?" Lois asked in turn.

"Well . . . I'm just not. I can't see things turning out too badly. Even the baby came out better than I expected."

Lois laughed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I've been kissing your neck for fifteen minutes and he hasn't woken up yet."

Lois smiled and kissed him. "Well, I'm not worried for a very good reason. I know everything is going to be fine in the end. Dewey told me."

Hal was curious. "Before or after he had the sudden growth spurt."

"After. He had another time accident and actually lived in the future for a while. He told me it was all over and everything is fine. Either he's telling the truth or he's become an excellent liar. Either way, I'm not going to worry about it." They kissed again. "Let's go to bed."

* * *

"What happened now?" Nob wanted to know. "Every time I trust you to do something you mess it up. Where are we?"

"I don't know," Malcolm insisted. "I was just thinking that maybe we should have gone straight home and . . . we stopped."

"In the middle of nowhere? In the dark?"

"Wait a minute." Malcolm pulled out his wand. "Lumos." He looked at Nob, then looked around. "I don't see anything."

"I do," Nob said. "Behind you."

Malcolm turned around. It was another door. He reached for the doorknob and turned. The door opened. And they were there.

* * *

Lord Voldemort was eyeing the potion before him carefully. He callously tossed it back to the man who had handed it to him.

"Yes, it is a wondrous achievement. The ability for a human being to duplicate himself down to the last hair is a magnificent accomplishment, in its own way. But, and I want you to think on this question very carefully, Nott, why would I want to duplicate myself? I have no wish to share power with anyone, not even a twin brother, regardless of how much he agreed with me. And now that you have had time to think of it, have you thought of a reason."

"No, master," Nott said nervously.

"And have you, Nott?"

"No, master," Nott said nervously, also.

Voldemort smiled. "Do you have anything else for me?"

"This, master." One of the Notts held up a silver ball the size of a snitch.

"Oh, lovely. Now we can play Quidditch with different colored balls." Voldemort was drawing his wand but paused as the Notts looked confused. "Did I guess wrong?"

"It's a lie detector," Nott explained. "The person you want to question holds the ball in his hand. If he tells the truth, nothing happens. But if he lies . . ."

"It's the Crustacean Curse," the other Nott blurted out."

"He turns into a crab?" Severus Snape asked.

"Why would they turn into me?" Crabbe asked. "Is it something like Polyjuice potion?"

Voldemort eyed the man carefully. "Surely you mean the Cruciatus Curse."

"I wanted to tell him," Nott one hissed at Nott two.

"That could be useful. Severus, call young Draco in here."

The masked figure closest to Voldemort went to the door and opened it. "The master wishes to see young Malfoy." Less than a minute later, Snape was walking back to the Dark Lord accompanied by one impeccably dressed and extremely nervous Draco Malfoy. He was told to hold out his hand. When he did, Voldemort placed the silver ball in his palm.

"Now, Draco," he said oily, "I want you to do something you have never done before. I want you to deliberately lie to me."

"But I have no reason to lie to you."

After a few moments, Voldemort asked, "Nott, how long will he writhe like that?"

"About twenty seconds, I think. There, you can see, he stopped twitching."

"Very good. Severus, would you . . . No, Lucius, why don't you take care of your son." He waved his wand and the ball came to his hand. He put it in a pocket and turned back to his two mad scientists. "Is there anything else?"

The two Notts looked at each other. Finally one pulled out a box with a five inch hole in it, and placed it on the small table between them and their master. "You probably wouldn't be interested but the application of the procedure to other areas is promising. This box will play a muggle device called a DVD. It's an entertainment disk that they put, I think they call them Moving Pictures, and they can play them back."

"A curious thing. And the magic does not interfere with the device's functionability?"

"That's the beauty of it, master. The DVD is an electric storage medium, but it isn't corrupted by the use of magic when placed in this device. We have even managed to have it project the image and sound as to the standard it was designed."

The other Nott pulled out a small handheld device. "And this is the best part, Master. A remote control."

Voldemort took the remote control device and told Nott to put one of his DVD's into the device. When Nott said it was ready, the Dark Lord pressed the power button. A screen appeared in mid air and he pressed the button marked play. Suddenly, the Alps appeared before them and Julie Andrews was singing, "The Hills Are Alive / With The Sound Of Music."

After the song was over, Voldemort pressed the stop button. "A curious device. Leave it with me, and the, um, DVD. I'd like to examine it closer at my leisure." As an afterthought, he added, "If you have any other DVD's, leave them as well. I want to make sure this isn't a fluke."

Happily, the Notts set four other disks on the table. They even had the honor of Voldemort thanking them for their efforts.

* * *

Anthony awoke in luxury. He had his own bedroom, and he had a real bed. It was better than when he was at school. And, he reminded himself, he was going to a new school. Best of all, today, he was going shopping.

He dressed as quickly as he could. He was nervous as he ate his breakfast but refused to say why. To their credit, Matt and his father made no further comment. Both were reminded of their first trips to Diagon Alley.

"Have you ever apparated before?" Mister Zeller asked.

"No," Anthony admitted, but his eyes grew wide at the thought.

"It is the fastest way to travel," Zeller's eye betrayed his amusement. "But it isn't as exciting as it sounds."

"I can live with that," Anthony admitted.

After breakfast was over, Anthony went to grab the list of items he would need for Hogwarts. Then he returned to the foyer where Matt was already waiting. A few more minutes and Mister Zeller came out of his office. He carefully explained what he was going to do, and what Anthony would have to do to apparate with him. Matthew grabbed his father's arm and both of them took a curious step. And they were gone. Moments later, Mister Zeller reappeared. Now it was Anthony's turn. He grabbed the man's arm as Matt had done. He took the curious step.

It was as though he was being squeezed from all sides. Then, just as suddenly, the pressure was gone. Matt was standing in front of him, grinning. Diagon Alley was all around them. Many shops were closed and there were few shoppers but it was still an amazing sight for Anthony. They were dragged first to the Alchemists, then to Madam Malkins. Anthony had to admit that being fitted for robes was no more fun than trying on clothes in a muggle store.

Flourish and Blotts was slightly more exciting. He saw some teenagers he recognized as Hogwarts students but no one he actually knew. He also met a girl who was a new student as well. She knew about magic but admitted she was excited as well as nervous. Anthony told her he felt the same way. Some of the shops were too unusual to be considered pleasant.

Matt smiled at the two of them. He knew about those shops. They were the new ones. And they catered to wizards and witches with darker tastes. As they left the bookstore, a man called out, "Jeffrey, what luck. Can I have a few words with you?"

Mister Zeller nodded. He told Matt to take Anthony for his wand. If he didn't meet them at Ollivander's then they should wait for him at one of his former properties. He left them with a wink. Anthony asked which former property. With a smile, Matt told him it was the one that the Weasleys had bought.

"Oh, mum, there they are." It was the girl they had talked with briefly. She was with her parents. She was trying to smile. "I need to get my wand but I don't know where to go."

"Those clerks weren't very helpful," her father noted.

Matt decided a little honesty was in order. "Quite a few wizards and witches are nervous about whom they might be dealing with. They don't hide it very well."

"What a surprise," the man said. "Wizards can be as stupid as normal people. And we're not exactly muggles, although we don't qualify as purebloods."

"I'd like to meet one of those pureblood," the girl said, "and give him a piece of my mind."

"That would be you," Anthony said to Matt.

"Guilty as charged. Of the purity, not the prejudice. And I am being rude. I'm Matt. I'm going to be a third year, in Gryffindor. It is the best house, you know. And this is my friend, Anthony. He's going to be a first year in Gryffindor."

"Rose said I should try for Ravenclaw," Anthony said. "That's where all the smart people go."

"Rose?" the girl asked.

"His girlfriend," Anthony said. "She's muggle born."

"She's only a friend," Matt insisted.

The girl smiled as everyone fell silent. Her mother nudged her. "Becca?"

"Oh!" The girl remembered. She never introduced herself. "I'm Rebecca Dutton. My friends, and my parents, call me 'Becca."

Becca told them that she needed to get her wand, but no one knew where they could go. Matt told them that Ollivander's was the best place and it was nearby. He eyed the Dutton's carefully as he said this. They should have known about the wand shop.

And they did. They had heard that it was closed up. Matt admitted that he had not heard anything about it. It was quickly decided that the Duttons would go with the two boys to investigate. If the shop was opened, they would buy a wand. If not, they would go with the boys to the other shop they had mentioned. There had been rumors, and all of them were curious what Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes would be like.

Secretly, Matt was glad for the company. Walking through Diagon Alley reminded him too closely of the one time his father took him to Knockturn Alley. His heart also dropped when he saw that Ollivander's shop was boarded up. In that moment, for the first time, he understood the darkness that threatened.

"Someone's trying to get in," Becca said.

Matt looked and his heart gave a leap. He knew the person, it was the fifth year, Malcolm. But he still looked like a fifth year and not the boy of eleven that left his birthday party.

"Malcolm?"

[_What the hell? I just go along with it. Just as long as I don't have to explain myself._

"The shop will be open shortly, for a limited period of time. If any of you care to wait."

[_I'm a genius. Now they won't be suspicious of me._

"You're breaking in?" Anthony asked with a laugh.

"Entering with difficulty," Malcolm explained.

"Malcolm," Matt started to ask.

"One minute," Malcolm said. He turned the lock pick and heard a click. "Let's talk inside the shop." He ushered everyone in, then closed the door behind him. "You had a question, young man?"

"I do. You look like you did at my birthday party, when you arrived, you know before you drank that potion that made you younger."

Malcolm smiled. "If I'm younger than I am now, then I must be from the future."

[_Great. It'll take me a little longer but they won't ask too many questions._

Malcolm smiled even more. "I don't have much time, but I think I need to sell a wand or two?"

Mrs. Dutton asked a question. "Then the shop was closed?"

"Ollivander disappeared a few weeks ago. No one knows what happened to him. That's what anyone will tell you if you ask."

She smiled. "A very diplomatic answer."

"Wands?" Malcolm said as he rubbed his hands together. He pointed at Anthony. "You, young man, what can I do for you?"

"A wand please, Sir."

Malcolm walked a short way, pulled a box at random, read the label on it, and brought it back. He opened the box, and handed over the wand. "Oak and Unicorn hair, fourteen inches."

Matt hit Anthony's arm and hissed, "wave it."

Anthony did so while the Duttons laughed. Nothing happened.

Malcolm walked down another aisle. He came back with a different box. "Dragon Heartstring and Ash, ten and one quarter inches."

Anthony waved it. Blue and Red stars shot out of it in a fireworks display. Matt nodded appreciatively. He told Anthony that those were the primary colors of two of the houses, the two he had friends in.

Rebecca was more difficult. It was her eighth wand, Also Dragon Heartstring, but twelve inches and Maple. Her wand did not shoot out and sparks. Instead, there was a brief rain of rose petals, red and yellow. Gryffindor colors. She smiled at Malcolm and told him that he was the reason for those colors. Then she hugged him. Despite his surprise, he returned the hug, and even whispered, "You're welcome." He looked at the parents. "Depending on circumstances, you may receive a bill at a later date."

He gathered the wands not chosen back into their boxes and put them away. On impulse, while he was not in view of anyone, he opened a random box and tested the wand. His luck held. He again found a wand on his first try. Going back to the small group, he opened the door. Seeing no one around, he ushered everyone out, urging discretion. Mister Dutton told him that discretion was the obvious course.

Malcolm locked the door behind him and bid everyone a final farewell. He went the other way from them and disappeared from sight as quickly as possible.

The two first years were amazed

"To think," Rebecca said, "He came back in time, just for us. Anthony, you're not smiling?"

"Becca, I was just wondering. What's so important that he would travel four years into the past, just to sell us our wands?"

Everyone felt a chill at the thought. Times were dark, and getting darker. Why would these two first years need their wands?


	9. We're Going To School

**Chapter 9: We're Going To School**

Dewey warned everyone to be careful. As long as they were together there shouldn't be a problem, but he honestly didn't know what to expect. He only knew to expect the worst. The one thing he did not understand was how he became the leader of the group. For years, he was always the one that everyone ignored. But now he was walking into King's Cross Station with a group that was guaranteed to raise eyebrows, if not questions.

"Anthony, stick close to Matt. I'm not sure what to expect, but I don't think it's going to be good."

Dewey looked at the remainder of the group. Jared and Simon had a determined look on their faces. They would get on that train regardless of what it took.

Anthony was nervous and with good cause. He had ignored all of the talk about what was happening until he went to Diagon Alley. After that, he read everything he could. He had little confidence in certain phrases such as, "reporting for review" and "acceptable placement". And he had read about how anyone who was not a pureblood would be subject to these "reviews".

Matt had talked with his father. A more adult talk than they ever had before. That his father would talk to him about moral conflicts showed how serious the situation had become. He was even told that, in the worst circumstances, he might have to abandon his friends if only to insure that he would survive. Jeffrey Zeller also pointed out that the circumstances might be such that he would not prefer survival. Anthony was worried because of all the things he did not know. Matt was worried because of all the things he did know.

Then there was the girl, Rebecca Dutton. Matt had explained how they met, and what had happened. The three had agreed to meet at King's Cross because of their unusual bond. Her parents made up two of the three adults. The third was David Winter. He was the only person who exuded confidence.

"Dewey, you should know that I had a bit of information come my way." He was talking to Dewey but he was speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. "It seems that everyone is curious about Anthony. He did manage to hide the fact that he was a wizard for a very long time. He won't be subject to the 'usual' reviews, although they will be watching him."

"Whoopee," Dewey replied. "Any other 'good' news."

"I did have one other piece of news." He paused. "Isn't Ruth Zeller going to be joining us? I wanted to let her know what to expect, since she's muggle-born."

"Her father was transferred to Calais," Matt explained. "It happened just last week. She told me they're going to try and get her into Beauxbatons. If not, she'll be starting late at Hogwarts."

Dewey noticed David seemed irritated at the news. The man muttered something about change of plans. Dewey had to admit he was relieved. David's calmness was only the veneer. He was as scared as the rest of them.

"Mister Dutton."

"Mister Winter?"

"A suggestion. You may prefer to make your goodbyes on this side of the partition. Your wife is muggle born."

And so they did. Matt escorted Becca and Anthony through the barrier to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. No one was in a good mood. David then urged the twins to go through the barrier and catch up to the others. He wanted to talk to Dewey about a few things. The two boys nodded. David mentioned to Dewey that Severus Snape was the new headmaster. Dewey mentioned that he knew. Smiling, he said he had his own sources of information. He was in Slytherin. David smiled. As he did so, he looked over at the partition. One twin had already stepped through and the other was about to. Dewey turned to look, as well, and saw the second twin step through.

"No alarms?" David said.

"Mister Winter? What do you mean?"

"Oh . . . I suddenly realized that the two boys were muggles. The partition should have refused to let them pass or else it should have set off an alarm."

Dewey's face went pale. He had forgotten all about the wards. That he wasn't the only one did not make him feel any better, but he found out the lucky way. Jared and Simon both passed the wards with no problem. He smiled. "I'll let you know what I find out, Mister Winter."

David Winter clasped the boy's shoulder in gratitude, and wished him the best of luck. He would make it a point to stay in touch, one way or another. With a final wish of good luck, he sent Dewey on his way. With everything that was going on, he now had to go back to his office and begin writing his reports. The people he answered to wanted as much information as possible. Even the smallest detail could prove useful.

* * *

Jared and Simon were through the barrier. Had they looked ahead, they would have seen the others, but they were distracted. They looked like any first years, gaping at the Hogwarts Express for the first time. 

"You two," a man in black robes sneered. "I should have known. It's all quite a change from last year. Isn't it?"

The two looked around. They had no idea what last year was like, but it was obvious what it wasn't like. Two couples close by were being searched by officials. The woman of one of them started screaming as she was grabbed and dragged away. The man was being told something he didn't like while a wand was pointed at his chest. The other couple was let go and quickly left the platform. They looked at no one as they left.

"Filthy Mudbloods," the man said, indicating the screaming woman. "She's putting on a show, deliberately, just to make people feel sorry for her. As for you two, keep your eyes open. I was told you could be trusted but I know how children are."

Neither boy said anything, but kept walking. Jared was thinking. It was all wrong. As they walked by the now single gentleman, an official was telling him in no uncertain terms to leave. "Mister Ackerly, how would your other children feel if neither parent returned."

They were past the man and almost to the train when a voice said, "There is no argument. That was wrong." Jared looked over to see a 'Typical English Schoolboy' standing there next to two other ghosts, one of which was wearing a Grateful Dead T-shirt. The third boy noticed them watching.

"Edwin, those two heard you."

"But we made ourselves invisible?" The three eyed the twins who kept walking out of fear of what might happen. "Charles, do you know what we should do?"

"It is self-evident. Right, Basil."

The Grateful Dead boy smiled. "Let's investigate."

Unseen, the three ghostly youths followed their quarry.

As for the twins, having lost sight of their companions, they decided to board the train and find a compartment. Simon suggested they could then wait to be found or do the searching themselves while still having a place to sit. As they did, another official called to them. They turned to see a man pointing. He said that the first two cars were reserved for purebloods, and that was where they were to go.

It was from the next car they passed that Rebecca Dutton called to them. She would see them at the school. She told them that Anthony was sent on ahead with Matt. Simon whispered to his brother that he had a feeling they were being herded like cattle. They passed two more cars and were now at the reserved section. They boarded the train and tried to find the other two boys. It turned out to be fairly easy. There was another official, failing in an effort to look casual, standing near the door to one compartment. Both boys nodded to each other and walked forward.

As they reached the compartment, the man muttered something to himself and opened the door for them. He closed it loudly behind them as they entered. He closed it again after Jared pulled his suitcase all the way into the compartment.

"These are the deluxe accommodations?" Simon asked.

Matt smiled at him. "We even have our own doorman." He helped them store their luggage. "He's not very keen on letting us walk about, you know. Might end up in the wrong car. Can't have us consorting with the lower sorts." He nodded to Anthony, who was sulking. "Unless you're a SPECIAL sort."

Jared was confused about why Matt would make such a statement so lightly with Anthony sitting next to him. The two were supposed to be friends. He looked to Simon to ask him but Simon quickly glanced at the man outside before looking directly at his brother. Jared understood. The man was listening to their conversation, probably some magic spell to eavesdrop. All of them would have to be careful about what they said. Knowing that, he felt like sulking as well.

"You do know that Professor Snape's been made Headmaster," Matt informed them. "That's good news for you, Malcolm. Especially if you get into Slytherin. I know you're planning on it, but the Sorting Hat did put you into Gryffindor the first time. So don't be surprised if you end up there again."

Matt kept up his monologue about how easy things would be for the twins. Malcolm was well known to be part of a certain group, what with Draco Malfoy being his best friend. And he was trusted to behave in a certain manner.

The train had already left the station when Jared finally figured out what Matt was saying. He said his first words at that point, "Excuse me." He stood up and opened the door to the compartment, looking their watchdog in the eye.

"You know, it might be easier if I just tell you later what we all talked about. After all, no one ever feels like talking with someone standing behind them taking notes."

"I have my orders."

"Yeah, keep an eye on us and make sure you know everything we say. That doesn't mean you have to stand around for the entire trip, unless we need escorts to the men's room or something." He stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him. "Look, you want to know if that boy, Anthony, says anything, right? Well, he won't say a thing if you're standing right here, so if you want him to talk then you're going to have to leave. Unless you don't trust ME."

The man turned sideways and pulled out his wand. "Did you hear all of that? What should I do?" He nodded his head in response to something. He put his wand away and turned back to Jared. "We'll trust you. And don't claim you forgot anything. We know you have perfect recall."

Jared knew the man appreciated not having to play spy anymore by the grateful look and the pat on the shoulder. He also knew that others were still listening to what the man heard, or said. With a sense of relief, he reentered the compartment.

"Thanks," Matt told him.

"Sorry I took so long to figure it out."

Simon suddenly looked startled. He pointed behind Jared. Behind him were the three ghosts they had seen earlier.

"What is it?" Matt asked as Jared jumped in surprise. Anthony was also concerned.

"Don't you see them?" He fell back into his seat when the English schoolboy came through the door.

"I'd wager they don't hear me, either. I'm Edwin, by the way. We were curious how the two of you were able to see us when we had made ourselves invisible."

"They don't see you?" Jared asked.

"We don't see who?" Anthony asked.

"It should be whom," Edwin said. "Tell the blond boy it should be, 'We don't see whom.' Actually, it should be correctly phrased, 'Whom don't we see?'"

"Jared?" Matt asked nervously.

"It's a ghost. He's correcting Anthony's grammar."

* * *

David Winter bid Dewey farewell and wished him luck. He departed the train station and took a leisurely walk to a less reputable section of London. He found the address he was looking for and casually entered the house. A simple spell made sure that no one paid any attention to him. 

It was supposed to be a deserted house, but that wasn't exactly true. Someone did live here, he had moved in only recently, and made great pains to see that his presence wasn't noticed, especially by wizards.

That resident looked up from the TV as David entered the living room.

"Things didn't work out the way we thought they would. The muggle boys who were playing the part of the twins. They managed to walk through the barrier without a problem. Do you have any idea how that happened?"

"A muggle walked through last year. He was possessed by a ghost."

David shook his head. "I know about that incident. It was in my reports. I took pains to have a spell in place to detect possession. That isn't what happened."

Malcolm frowned. "I don't understand. They claimed they were muggles and that they agreed to impersonate me and this boy, Nob. If they walked through the barrier, they can't be muggles."

David was not in a good mood. "You're the genius, here. You should be able to figure it out. At least give me your best guess."

Now Malcolm was angry. "Okay, I admit I made a couple of mistakes. I didn't know about Nob. How could I? And I expected to be my normal self. Instead, I'm hiding in this house trying to figure out how I'm going to Hogwarts for the first time." Inspiration struck. "Unless . . . that's it! I'm not missing, I'm only claiming that I'm missing. The boys pretending to be me and Nob ARE me and Nob. Which means there is a third party involved that they're trying to confuse, trying to trick me into making a mistake."

"And what do we do?" David asked.

"Are you ready to become a Death Eater?"

David smiled. The boy did not know everything. The Dark Mark was already on his arm. He knew Malcolm too well to trust him. "I have made overtures to the right people. They only want to know if I'm serious. And what will you be doing?"

"Arranging an accident for Dewey. A very public accident. It would be better if he were no longer around to cause trouble."

"He's already at Hogwarts."

David became slightly nervous as Malcolm smiled. "Well, I must be going." He paused before leaving the room. "The girl, Rose Zeller. She fled to France with her family. I thought you would like to know that."

"That is good news," Malcolm told him. "That's one less thing I have to take care off."

* * *

Dewey was late going through to the platform because of his conversation with David Winter. So it was with curiosity that he followed the two twins in front of him. These twins were adults, but they carried on a conversation that the boy found juvenile and interesting. It was a discussion of what possible ideas would please the master. 

"Replicating food? You could have your cake and eat it too."

"Food's too plentiful. He might be amused. We could try levitating houses. Travel the world and literally never leave home."

"That would be fun. But I don't think the master is the fun type."

"There is that. "

"Hold it you." It was one of the officials. Specifically, it was the same Death Eater that Dewey has pulled his wand on at the wedding.

"You do know who I am?" Dewey asked with all of his arrogance.

The twins turned around. "It's HIS brother." "The good one?" "I think so."

"He's supposed to be on the train," the official said, his arrogant voice ruined by a quaver at the end.

"I heard you talking," Dewey told the two men, arrogance was replaced by wide-eyed innocence. "It was real interesting."

The twins beamed at the thought that someone would find their conversation interesting. "Would you like to join us? We have our own compartment."

"It's the very last compartment in the very last car. We can look at where we've been the entire time!"

"Wow!" Dewey exclaimed. "That sounds great." He turned to the official, sneered, then smiled politely. "If you have no objection." He was pleased that he said it just right to show he wasn't asking a question.

Dewey walked with the two men to the end of the train. He was wide eyed the entire time. And despite his efforts, he found himself making suggestions of his own about fun things to do for the Dark Lord. One of the men even wrote two of them down in his notebook.

* * *

Edwin Paine introduced himself and his friends, Charles Rowland and Basil Malfoy. The young blond ghost admitted that he was Draco's brother, which made everyone pause for thought. It had been common knowledge that Draco Malfoy was an only child. Basil admitted that common knowledge was now true. 

"And we would like to know," Edwin said, "How you were able to see us when we were invisible."

Jared knew the reason, but he couldn't explain it. To reveal it would be to reveal their biggest secret. That they came from a different world. But they had to have a reason.

"Goblins," Simon said suddenly. "A goblin gave us a, um, potion of sorts. To put on our eyes."

"That doesn't make sense," Matt said.

"It does," Simon insisted. "There are magical creatures who can make themselves disappear if they don't want ordinary people to see them. And it seems that there's something in the potion that lets us see them anyway. They can't hide from us. I guess Edwin and his friends count as magical creatures."

"And how long does this potion last once it's used?"

"Until we die," Simon explained.

"And why did the Goblin give you the potion," Anthony asked.

"We, uh . . ." Simon said nervously.

"Nob," Jared said forcefully, "we promised not to tell."

Edwin smiled at the thought. "We should test this. You can see ghosts. Can you see through invisibility cloaks? That would be interesting."

"We have company," Charles said.

"Are they gone?" Matt asked.

The brothers both shook their heads then turned as the door to the compartment opened. It was the trolley lady, with a nervous smile. "Hello, dears, anything to eat. Compliments of the Hogwarts Express."

"Compliments?" Jared asked.

"No charge, for purebloods of course."

Suddenly, no one felt hungry. Except Matt. He immediately asked for four pumpkin pasties, four chocolate frogs, and four boxes of Bertie Bott's. As the Trolley Lady handed him his order he forced a Galleon into her hand.

"Zeller's always pay their way, because we can afford to. Extend my charity to those who need it."

The lady gave a quick look around and put the money in her change pocket. And she thanked Matt for his fairness. She was slightly less nervous as she approached the next compartment.

"Is anyone hungry?"

As Matt divided the snacks, Charles looked down the hallway. "Edwin, I've had a thought. I'm going to follow the trolley for a bit. I'm curious what happens when she goes to the next car."

"Charles," Jared thought to ask, "there was a girl with us, Rebecca Dutton, if you see her, well, we're worried."

Charles nodded. Then he floated away.

* * *

"No thank you," Ginny Weasley told the trolley lady. "We don't take charity." 

"I'm willing to BUY something," Neville Longbottom said, "but nothing's for sale."

The trolley lady looked around, carefully, to see if she was being watched. "You wouldn't be the first to pay for your services, and I promise, I'll pass on your charity to those who need it."

Neville smiled at Ginny and Luna. "Who's hungry? My treat."

Ginny had to smile as she bit into the pumpkin pastie. She was hungry. Mum made sandwiches for her but they were never that inviting. She could hear the students in the next compartment as they seemed to be demanding everything on the cart.

"Why do they cheapen everything?" She asked into the air.

"I think it's fun," Luna told her. "It shows us who we really are." She went on to explain that they could get the same effect with an infestation of Druzzlebees, but that part wasn't important.

"May I make it four, briefly?" Charles Rowland said as he materialized in the compartment.

"You're going back to Hogwarts," Ginny asked.

"We're on another case. All hush hush. Not very exciting though, unless you're in the business."

Ginny laughed at Neville's confused look. "Charles and Edwin are private detectives. That's why they were at school last year." She looked back to Charles. "Is anyone else with you?"

"Basil is in one of the forward compartments with Edwin and Malcolm. Malcolm has changed since I last saw him."

"It made the front page of the Daily Prophet," Ginny said.

"And I suppose that's why they are acting strange?"

Ginny froze for half a second, and the others noticed. "I'm sorry, but . . . they were at the Bills wedding. That was the night that . . ." She had to stop as the memories overwhelmed her.

"The night HE took over," Neville explained.

Charles accepted the answer. "Thank you for clarifying things, but I've got to go. I'm following the trolley lady. I am curious as to how things are handled in the other cars. And I need to check on someone."

"Anthony?"

"He's with Malcolm and Nob. It's a girl Anthony met at Diagon Alley when they bought their wands."

"What?" Ginny was confused. "Ollivander's is closed. He disappeared weeks ago."

Charles shrugged. "If I find anything, I'll let you know." He made himself invisible and continued his quest.

The Trolley Lady was in the third car. She was acting normally. Charles watched as she went to the first few compartments, asked if anyone wanted anything, and charged them the normal amounts. He smirked to himself. Typically bullying tactics. Your group does what it wants, and let the others make do. Satisfied with his conclusion, he proceeded to inspect the various compartments, looking for the girl in question.

Rebecca was in the fifth car, in one of the middle compartments. And she was not alone. Two other first years were with her, a girl named Shana and a boy who didn't like being called Mikey.

"Michael, if you don't mind."

"I'm teasing, you know that," Shana told him.

"I'm just not in the mood. I've been waiting for today. And now I'm dreading it."

"We agreed not to talk about it," Shana reminded him. "Isn't that right, Becca?"

"Maybe we should," Rebecca Dutton said. "We have to decide what to do. Now. Once we're at Hogwarts, it'll be too late."

"I don't want to think about it," Shana insisted.

"Becca's right. If we plan now, when we have the chance, we can . . ."

"What?" both girls asked.

"What plans can we make?"

Shana was the one to answer. "To stay together. I know I'll be lost without someone I know I can trust."

"Which house, then?" Michael asked. "How do we decide?"

Rebecca smiled. "I know. There's someone else we can trust. And he'll be sorted before us. We demand to be put in the same house." She told them about meeting Anthony in Diagon Alley, and how Malcolm met them there so that he could sell them their wands. All three were impressed, Shana, Michael and Charles.

Charles took a quick look in the corridor to make sure it was empty. Then he made it a point to let his voice be heard.

"Anthony sent me to look for you."

"Who?" Michael asked, looking around furiously, while Shana checked the corridor outside. Rebecca was also surprised but remained calm because of the mention of her friend.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"Here." The ghost faded into view. "Charles Rowland, at your service."

The four had an animated discussion about who was where. Charles informed them of who was in the compartment with Anthony. He then explained that he said his partners because of his business. He was a private detective. He had even visited Hogwarts. All three of the new students wanted to know what to expect.

When the Trolley Lady could be heard, Charles took his leave. That was when Shana asked a favor. She had helped another girl, muggle-born to find the Platform. Once they came through, she was ordered to explain herself while the girl was thrust into the last car. Charles agreed to look.

Once again he became invisible. He slipped out of the compartment and into the next car. Things were noticeably different. Each of the last three cars had at least two adults in the corridors, walking up and down and constantly looking in the various compartments. In the last car, in a compartment with five other first years, sat the girl in question, a red-haired girl. A couple of the others, by the window, were whispering to each other.

Charles watched with curiosity as one of the boys by the door noticed one of the guards coming. He tapped the red-haired girl with his arm. She tapped the girl next to her who sat up at once. The boy across from her sat up as well. He floated over everyone and listened carefully when the two by the window started talking again.

"Hostages. Must make due," the boy said.

"Miriam, Ben" the black girl nodded to the red head. "Not much choice. Look to older students"

They sat up again. When the all clear signal was given they started to talk again.

"Students. Find out who to lead. Find out who to trust."

The boy sat back and repeated everything he heard from the girl, including their names. Charles was impressed at their self reliance. Inspired, he looked in a few of the other compartments. No one else was talking. A few, boys and girls, were sobbing or red eyed. As he started to leave the car, he found out why. One of the guards opened a compartment, his wand drawn, and yelling something about a filthy mudblood. He shouted a curse and someone screamed.

Charles floated back to check. It was a girl in her fourth or fifth year. She was still shaking while everyone was careful not to help her. The guard smiled and closed the compartment door. Having seen enough, Charles made his way forward. He stopped briefly to tell Rebecca and her friends what he had seen. Then he went to the compartment where Ginny was and repeated what he had said.

* * *

Jared was ill prepared to be Malcolm for any length of time. There were too many little details that he did not know. Such as why Matt referred to him as Professor. It took little time for Anthony to become suspicious as well. Finally, they asked. 

"Who are you?"

Simon smiled. "Why doesn't anyone want to know who I am?"

Anthony laughed. "Who are you?"

"I should introduce myself as Simon Grace. And to answer you're other question, this is my brother, Jared. We're substituting for Malcolm and Nob until Dewey finds out where they're hiding. For safety's sake, I think we should leave it at that. The less you know, the safer you are."

"That does make sense," Matt said. "And under the circumstances, we want to be as safe as possible."

"A curious turn of events," Edwin told Basil. "May I suggest that we spend our time telling 'Malcolm' of our experiences, as far as he is involved. Malcolm?"

Jared looked up. "Oh, sure. But, who's that boy in the corridor?"

Everyone looked out. Jared noticed the surprise on the mousy haired boy when everyone turned to look at him, and shared his confusion when only Simon admitted seeing him. Simon added that it must be the sight. Jared nodded and opened the compartment door, inviting the other boy inside.

"You can see me?" the boy asked.

"Dennis?" Anthony said with a laugh. "I should have known it was you when I didn't see anyone."

"Dennis Creevey?" Matt asked.

Jared closed the compartment door as Dennis appeared on the seat across from him.

Matt's jaw dropped. "You can cast an invisibility spell? That is amazing."

Dennis smiled, and just as quickly warned everyone not to say anything. He then demanded to know who Jared and Simon were. He was told, and told not to say anything.

"How'd you ever get up here?" Anthony demanded.

"Luck mostly," Dennis admitted. "The Trolley Lady opened the door between the cars. She was told she didn't need to offer anything to us 'Mudbloods'. I was already in the corridor and I slipped past her. Followed her all the way up to the front." He smiled. "No one noticed the doors didn't close fast behind her. I was seeing who was where when he," pointing at Jared, "spotted me. Useful trick, that."

When Charles returned, he was surprised at the turn of events, and relieved that he did not have to relate what he saw one more time. Dennis had already informed everyone of what was going on at the end of the train.

Time passed more quickly than they expected. Jared and Simon took their positions as spotters, in case anyone walked by. But they were the special group. There were no guards or watchmen. Only the occasional wanderers making their way. Dennis and the ghosts only had to disappear four times.

They did talk about making plans but they soon realized that they didn't know what plans to make. They did, however, make sure that 'Malcolm' knew everything that they knew about him. And with Dennis, that meant 'Malcolm' knew quite a bit.

* * *

"Dewey?" the first Nott, Nicholas, asked. "We're almost to the school. Why the frown?" 

"We're your friends," the second Nott, Nickelby, told him. "You know you can trust us to help if we can."

"Not really," Dewey admitted. "I'm fifteen months older than I should be, thanks to Malcolm. They'll put me in the next year." He suddenly realized how much he appreciated his classmates. "It's almost like going to a new school."

The two Nott's smirked. Nicholas patted Dewey's head. "There, there, my young mate. I guess you didn't know that it was our potion that your brother stole. And we do remember the recipe."

"Fifteen months?" Nickelby asked as he pulled out a small vial. "Let me see? One drop equals seventeen days. That would be, hmmm, twenty seven drops. We might be a day or two off, no more than a week I should think."

Dewey was amazed. He had managed to get these two to tell him everything they knew about Voldemort and his plans, without even having to give a reason. They trusted him completely. And now, having been honest with them for the first time, they not only offered to help but showed him that they had the means. They produced a spoon and used a stopper to put the exact number of drops in it. Then Nicholas said, "Open wide for your medicine."


	10. Arrival

A/N: I want to thank everyone for their reviews, and I wanted to let everyone know that all the mistakes that have been pointed out have been corrected. And a thank you also to everyone who has been following this story. I know that everyone is probably confused at this point, and I wanted to note that it should get better toward the end. I wrote this with the intention of having some fun. I think I managed to not violate canon throughout the whole thing, but I came awfully close a few times. Once again, I apologize in advance for the Space Vikings.

**Chapter 10: Arrival**

"FIRST YEARS, THIS WAY," Hagrid shouted as the students began to pour out of the cars. In the distance he saw a student shoved to the ground. The next instant he grabbed one of the prefects, a Ravenclaw, told him to keep shouting for the first years, then began running toward the rear of the train.

"Don't inter . . ." the dark wizard said as Hagrid approached. What else he meant to say was lost as the man was pushed thirty feet away, by the nearest estimates, and decided to take an impromptu nap.

Hagrid was kneeling by the boy he had seen struck. "Are ye hurt?"

"Not as bad as some," the boy said as the giant helped him up.

Seeing the boy was fine enough to walk on his own, yet had others to help him if need be, he demanded from one of the older students to know who was hurt, and how.

"Stay out of this," another wizard said, and Hagrid turned on him in anger. The wizard decided that backing away and tripping over his own feet might be a better idea.

"No one's killed," a fifth year girl said, "but some are still recovering. They used the Cruciatus curse for discipline."

"DISCIPLINE?"

Several windows on the train chose that moment to shatter in response to the giant's volume.

Hagrid pulled out his wand and looked around for anyone who was not a student. He called to the older students to make sure everyone was off the train and to tell him at once if anyone needed help. "And Get Yer Wands Out. An' use 'em if you have to."

No one from the last cars had a wand. They had been confiscated. But no few students from the middle cars had come to watch the excitement. And they were more than willing to help.

Hagrid began marching the length of the train. Two of the wizards that were part of the escort were forcibly helped back onto the train. The others had been wise enough to do so voluntarily. No one wanted to deal with students who had their wands drawn and were willing to use them, nor a giant who might not bother using his wand.

As he neared the front of the train, he spotted the two faces he was looking for.

"Malcolm, I need a favor from ye. Fly up to the school and let McGonagall know what them hooligans were doin'."

Jared felt a moment of dread. It was only a matter of time before someone would want him to change shape. He looked around instinctively for Simon but he caught Dennis waving to him. Dennis gave a thumbs up and Jared watched as the other boy assumed a form that he was familiar with. A Griffin. Jared smiled as he saw the creature fly off in the direction of the school.

"It's already been taken care of."

Hagrid laughed. "Ye knew? An' already told? Then why'd ye fly back?"

Jared smiled. The giant had made the wrong conclusion but it was a safe one. And he knew what to say as an excuse. "First years get to sail across the lake."

Hagrid beamed at the thought that Malcolm would want to make that journey again. He was still smiling when he turned to Nob. "I guess yer eager to get started."

Simon knew his part. This man was his godfather. "More than eager."

"An' if ye have any questions, you jus' ask me."

As the situation seemed to return to normal, Hagrid went back to rounding up all the new students and leading them to the lake where the boats were waiting.

"I guess yer excited to be here, Nob," Hagrid said as he loaded the boy into the boat.

"It was unexpected," Simon admitted. "I'm not sure what to expect."

"Well, don't expect any favors from me in my class."

Simon paused from stepping into the boat. He was curious about something. The giant was supposed to be his godfather. And he taught at the school. "Hagrid, no one ever told me what you teach."

Hagrid looked surprised. "Care of Magical Creatures," he said with a laugh

Simon, who could not pass an animal without wanting to take it home as a pet, went wide-eyed. "YOU just became my favorite Professor."

Hagrid beamed at the words. He looked at the other students waiting to enter the boats. "Tha's my godson, you know."

"You made him very happy," Jared told to his brother.

Simon smiled back. "Do you believe that? And he'll want to show me all sorts of creatures. I'm his godson."

Jared paled at the thought of what kind of pets his brother would be keeping. He also worried about what they would find once they reached the school. But when Simon pointed and said it looked great, he glanced in that direction and saw the school for the first time. He decided that it just might be worth it.

* * *

"I have it on very good authority," McGonagall was saying to the gathered teachers, "that things are starting off on the wrong foot." She told them everything that had been happening on the train, without mentioning her source. She was also thanking herself for keeping a secret from the rest of the teachers. 

The two new teachers laughed at the accusations, drawing angry looks from the rest of the faculty. The new Defense teacher suggested that such punishments were appropriate.

Severus Snape, as Headmaster, had his first problem, but he was already prepared.

"Professor McGonagall is right. The actions of the adult guardians on the train were completely out of order. They should never have taken place. However, I do not have any authority over what happens on the Hogwarts Express. We may all make our objections known but the truth is there is nothing anyone here can do about it."

McGonagall was furious. The part that made her most angry was the fact that the new headmaster was correct. They could do nothing about it. And the Ministry, now in the control of the Dark Lord, was already doing worse things. One of the things Dennis had told her was that at least two people were seized on the platform itself. One of them was taken while her children watched.

The school was now a fortress, she decided. The duties of all the teachers were to educate AND protect the students. And there was one advantage in this tactic. The traitors within Fortress Hogwarts were already known.

* * *

Dewey walked up to the teachers table as soon as he entered the Great Hall. He walked directly to the new headmaster. 

"Professor Snape?"

Severus Snape turned around. He was smiling. "Dewey, any problems you have you should take up with your head of house." He pointed to the portly gentleman near the end of the table. "That would be Professor Slughorn."

"It's not a problem. It's a favor." Dewey handed the Professor a folded piece of parchment. Snape, showing his irritation, took the parchment. He read it, looked at Dewey, read it again.

"Follow me. We'll talk in private." Snape led the way to a room behind the table, the same one the contestants went to at the drawing for the Tri-Wizard tournament. He cast a silencing spell as soon as the door was closed.

"How did you . . . how could you know about Potter's escape?" Snape stared at the young blond boy with the crew cut hair. As he did, he remembered an 'accident' from last year. "It's something to do with that boy. The one that appeared in Malcolm's place."

"Kinda. Look Professor, I can't explain everything, but I know all about you and Dumbledore. I even know about . . . other stuff. I won't tell anyone. Ever. I promise. But . . ."

Snape sighed. "It's Malcolm. I know it is. What did your brother do now? Isn't starting school all over again bad enough?"

Dewey tried to remain calm. He was about to reveal a secret to another person. Idly, he thought it was becoming the largest known secret at Hogwarts. "Sir, it's not what he did. It's what he can't do. You need to publically forbid him to change into an owl. And Nob, too, while you're at it."

"I would love to forbid Malcolm anything. And that includes returning to this school. But I need a reason."

Dewey cringed. "That isn't Malcolm. He only looks like Malcolm. And everyone's going to want to see him change and then they'll all know."

Snape rubbed his eyes. His first official day as headmaster was not going very well. "Where is Malcolm?"

"Uh . . . we lost him. Him and Nob."

"Lost?"

"Misplaced?" Dewey suggested.

"Where? No, don't even try to answer that. I don't want to know."

* * *

Professor McGonagall led the first year students into the Great Hall. She had given all of them her standard speech as though nothing was wrong. She told them the names of the houses and that they would all try on the sorting hat. As she lined them up according to their names, she was mildly surprised to see one particular boy in the front. 

"I see you changed your name."

"Had to," Anthony admitted. "Not old enough for my old one, anymore."

"A curious choice."

"It was Rose Zeller's idea. She said it was from a movie." Anthony looked away and sighed. He turned back. "I thought about it, and it does fit."

She eyed Malcolm and Nob, both were acting peculiar. Then Nob told Malcolm to smile, and Malcolm did. A shy smile. McGonagall smiled in return. The boy would recover from his embarrassment and then . . . she did not want to think what would happen once Malcolm was his old self.

And now they were walking toward the teacher's table and the stool where the sorting hat sat. Everyone stood and waited. And waited. Professor McGonagall understood. There would be no song this year. Regardless of how much they tried, this would not be a normal year.

"When I call your name, you will sit on this stool and I will place the sorting hat on your head." She looked at her list. "Adverse, Anthony."

Anthony walked forward and sat on the stool. The hat was placed on his head. And Anthony thought, 'no song this year'.

'What could I say?' the hat thought back. 'And where to put you?'

'Gryffindor? I always ended up there before.'

'True, but would it be better to place you elsewhere. You were a follower when you were older, and now you are a leader. And with Malcolm I have . . . a problem.'

Anthony understood. When Malcolm's name was mentioned, he thought of Malcolm and now the hat knew. He almost laughed at the next words to come into his head.

'You always seem to end up there'. "GRYFFINDOR".

The Gryffindors applauded their newest member as Anthony took off his hat and walked to the table. Matt was sitting there, with Euan and Jenny, waiting for their old friend.

"What took you so long?" Matt asked.

Anthony smiled. "Had to put up a fight. Just to make it look good."

The names were being called. The girl after Anthony went into Slytherin. The same with the boy after her. Dutton, Rebecca was called. Again, it took some time, and the Hat called out Gryffindor. Becca sat down across from Anthony, looking at him carefully.

"The hat told me you were a difficult choice. It told me I was going to Gryffindor in case you needed help. With Malcolm."

It was Euan, who was sitting next to her, who had to ask. "What do you know about Malcolm?"

"He's the reason my last name is Dutton." She told them how, three years earlier, she was an orphan in the hospital playing Owl Post. Malcolm, as an owl, delivered her letter to her new parents.

* * *

The sorting continued to play itself out. Miriam, Ben and the others ended up together in Ravenclaw. They all agreed to follow the first one to the same house. When they compared notes, they found that the hat offered no objections to any of them. Shana and Michael ended up in Gryffindor for the same reason. 

All in all, the sorting was going along at a normal pace. Until Malcolm's name was called. The hat was placed on his head, and everyone waited. Jared sat there. And sat there. And sat there. After fifteen minutes, the hat called out, "Gryffindor." More than one student would swear it sounded exasperated.

Jared was pointed to the Gryffindor table. He apologized, and walked as quickly as he could. Nob's name was called. Before Jared sat down, his brother was on his way to join him. The first question everyone asked was what took so long. Jared shrugged his shoulders and said, "stuff, I guess".

* * *

The sorting was finished. Charles Rowland was the only one to notice that Miriam and her five companions from the train all went to Ravenclaw. There was an expectant hush as the new Headmaster stood up. By now, most of the first years had heard about Severus Snape and did not expect much good. 

"Before we begin the feast, let me first introduce two new teachers to the faculty. First is Alecto Carrow, who will take over as Professor for Muggle studies. It is hoped she will give a refreshing and accurate view of what muggles are really like."

A short woman in black robes stood up to a smattering of applause, the majority from Slytherin. As she sat back down, the man sitting next to her stood up. He was also short, and fat in an uncomplimentary way. To the casual observer, it would be assumed that his nickname was Lumpy. And he had a crooked smile. A smile that guaranteed no one would trust him behind their backs.

"As Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, may I introduce her brother, Amycus Carrow, a man who has significant experience in this area. There are also a few necessary announcements. Enforcement of the rules has often been lax in this school under its previous leadership. This will now change. Anyone found breaking the rules will find themselves subject to punishment. No excuses will be permitted, nor accepted."

Professor Snape turned to look directly at Jared and Simon. "There are also some students who are 'blessed' with extraordinary abilities. As these abilities are not part of the standard curriculum, they are not to be exercised. I believe it is obvious which two students I am referring to, and they will meet with me at the end of the feast so that I may make certain they follow my directions in this area." He did his best to glare at the entire student body all at the same time. "You might as well start eating."

* * *

"Sir," Jared said as he and Simon approached the headmaster. 

"Follow me." Snape led them to the same room where he had talked with Dewey. He closed the door behind him after the boys had entered and cast the silencing spell so they would not be overheard. He looked directly at Jared. "You are an Animagus. Change into an owl right now or I will have you expelled."

A look of fear crossed Jared's face. The headmaster noticed it, and smiled. The look of fear crisscrossed Jared's face, found a suitable spot, and stayed there for all the world to see.

"And you are?" Snape asked.

"Ma-Malcolm," Jared said as he lowered his eyes.

"You seem thrilled by the fact. I suppose you'd rather be Nob."

"You know?" Simon asked.

Severus Snape looked up and cursed several imaginary gods. "Regretfully, yes. And I am blackmailed into helping the two of you. Before I do. MALCOLM, I want to know what the Sorting Hat was telling you that took so long."

"Telling?"

The surprised looks of the two boys was matched by the headmaster. He knew now what had happened. The two students he least looked forward to seeing had been replaced by muggles. That was the only reason they would never have heard anything. As he mentally thought of ways to punish Dewey for getting him into this situation, Snape also decided to take the simplest course of action.

"Never tell anyone about the Sorting Hat. And if anyone, and I mean this, if anyone asks either of you to turn into an owl, tell them I had you take a Wizard's Oath not to. Do both of you understand?" Both boys nodded. "Now, get out. Wait, you are supposed to know the way to Gryffindor."

"We'll find it, Sir," Jared answered. "We have someone who knows about us to guide us."

"Who at the school knows about you? Beside Dewey."

Jared looked at Simon, who nodded. Not all the names would be mentioned. "Matthew Zeller and Anthony Adverse. Funny. Saw an old movie with that name, once. Ginny Weasley knows."

"No teachers?"

Both boys shook their heads.

"Keep it that way. I don't want any more names added to the list." The headmaster sighed as the two boys left the room. It was going to be a long school year.

* * *

Charles signaled from the top of the stairs. 

"The way is clear," Edwin said to the twins as he led the way. "But you shouldn't say anything to me, to be on the safe side." He marveled at the bit of fortune. Because they could see ghosts even when they were in their invisible state, it was a simple matter to have the boys follow him. It was also fun to play tour guide and tell them things they should know, such as where the trick stair was, that the staircases like to change, and which portraits would try to talk their ears off.

Basil appeared at the halfway point to let them know the password. It was "Courage Always".

* * *

David Winter was smiling. He had good news for the master. When he was permitted entrance, he quickly explained what had occurred at his most recent meeting. 

"And he suggested you become my servant?" Voldemort asked.

"His suggestion is that I should pretend, my lord. He does not know that I have placed all pretenses aside. I prefer to serve someone who has proven himself to be a leader. Not someone looking for a second chance."

Voldemort smiled, his malice visible to everyone. "It is time, then, to reveal to your former master that you have a new allegiance."

David Winter apparated directly to the house he had left only yesterday. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, his master and several other Death Eaters also appeared. The house was deserted. The only signs that anyone had lived there was in the adjoining room where the televison had been left on except that the volume had been turned all the way down. The screen showed only static. On the chair, in front of the television was a piece of paper.

"What is it?" Voldemort asked. "Has our quarry left us a taunting note?"

"No, my lord," the Death Eater called out. "There's only one word written on it. Bang."

Voldemort noticed the sudden fear in David Winter's eyes and managed to apparate before his American acolyte. The Death Eater holding the piece of paper never knew what happened when the television exploded. He was killed instantly. The others, with varying injuries, managed to escape the house and return to the Manor.

As the last Death Eater vanished, a shadow moved in the corner and Malcolm appeared. The fifteen-year-old boy looked around and sighed. It would have been too much to expect David to be the victim, but it would make him and his new boss more careful if they tried to stop him. He pictured himself face to face with the Dark Lord, smirking. To the air, he said, "I know the prophecy, you fool. I'm waiting for you to die."

Knowing there was no more to be done, he slipped back into the shadows. He had a long journey ahead of him. He could not rely on wizarding transportation. But he did know how to get to Hogwarts without magic.

* * *

"Is it really you?" Avery asked, after making sure everyone else was asleep. 

"Yeah, and I had a lot of fun. But it's good to be back."

Avery nodded. "I couldn't help notice that Malcolm was acting strange."

Dewey snorted. "He told me the Great Hall is bigger than he remembered."

Avery snickered. "It was funny. It was like he was seeing it all for the first time."

* * *

"You look nervous, David." 

Voldemort was not angry.

"I failed you, My Lord. I wanted to prove myself to you."

"In this, you did fail. But I know Malcolm too well. I remember how he created an elaborate ruse, disrupting the entire wizarding world and creating anger and animosities, simply to guarantee that his brother's adoption would be accepted by the Wizengamut. There is always more to him than you expect."

"Malcolm is your enemy," David emphasized.

"Perhaps, but he will not threaten me directly. He knows that he cannot harm me. I need not fear him. But there is another I must face, and he may help that one. You can help me by trying to discover the pieces of his plan. Find out what happened to his adopted brother. And you are an American. Surely you can discover who these two wizardlings are that claim to be who they cannot possibly be."

David bowed as he was dismissed. As he turned to go, Voldemort told him to wait. He had one more question to ask. "How did the Americans react to our new Minister?"

David understood. Voldemort would not praise him directly after the fiasco at Malcolm's hideaway. This was his way of telling his servant that he did not fail.

"Our Government accepted my assurances that it was an internal matter, a political power play. They also accept my statements that the rumors and accusations are from the radical fringe of Scrimgeour's group. They are satisfied."

"And Scrimgeour's death?"

David grinned widely. "As you know, My Lord, my wife died the same night as the Minister. She died with her lover who was using Polyjuice Potion. I have mentioned both incidents, in private, to members of my government and encouraged them to come to the most scandalous conclusion."

David Winter bowed again. As he left the room, he smiled to himself. He had a few secrets of his own to keep, but he had definitely made the right choice, as long as one pesky teenager keeps his distance.

* * *

With help, the twins found their way to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Charles informed them that they were to give her the password. Simon looked up at the expectant figure in the painting. 

"Uh, Courage Always?"

"You must be Nob," the Fat Lady said. "Welcome to Hogwarts." The portrait swung open to reveal the entrance to Gryffindor. Both boys entered and tried to appear unsurprised by what they saw. But what they saw was Professor McGonagall talking to the students. If anything, having everyone go silent and suddenly stare at them gave the two an excellent excuse to appear nervous.

"How did the two of you get in?" McGonagall demanded.

"We, um, gave the Fat Lady the password," Jared answered.

"And how did you get the password? I know I didn't tell you what it was."

"The headmaster told us."

"I did not tell Professor Snape what the password was."

"One of the other students," Simon offered.

McGonagall was initially curious but now she was suspicious. "I didn't tell any of the students until they were in the common room. I made it a point to have the portrait open and waiting for them when they arrived from the Great Hall." She emphasized each word as she said, "HOW . . . DID . . . YOU . . . KNOW?"

Jared tried to hang his head yet look at the Professor at the same time. "Lucky guess?"

"FRED WEASLEY, THIS IS NOT A LAUGHING MATTER?"

For one second, there was dead silence in the room. Then, Professor McGonagall realized what she had said. She threw up her hands and walked out amid gales of laughter.


	11. Where The Heck Is Malcolm

**Chapter Eleven: Where the Heck is Malcolm**

Dewey forced himself out of bed to face his first day of school. What he wished most was that it was the first day of school, last year. He showered, dressed, brushed his teeth, flossed and grimaced. Having finished, he headed to Slytherin's common room to see if anyone was waiting for him. Avery was the most likely suspect, although Malcolm Baddock would make it a point if he suddenly had another idea about what music they could play.

Professor Slughorn was standing there, giving him the nervous smile he always had whenever he talked to Dewey or any of his brothers. Except Malcolm. The nervous smile was a nervous scowl as he ordered Malcolm to get away from him. Needless to say, Potions was Malcolm's favorite class.

"Ah, there is our young musician, now. I have good news for you, Dewey."

Dewey sighed. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he feared. He looked up and smiled. In an eager voice, he asked, "What is it. Sir?"

"You have been excused from your classes, today."

Dewey forced himself to frown. "Even yours?"

"Yes," Slughorn said, a bit too happily. "And, in exchange, you get to talk to Headmaster Snape. He said it was very important."

Dewey nodded. He was trying to think. The twins couldn't have ended up in trouble this quickly? All they had to do was go to sleep. Unless . . .

Dewey had no idea what came after unless so he stopped thinking, put on his best smile and said, "Okay. Can I eat breakfast first?"

"Of course, you can," Slughorn told him. That guaranteed that, regardless of how long the headmaster kept him, the boy would definitely miss his potions class. "It won't be a problem."

"Thank you, sir."

Dewey left the common room and made his way to the Great Hall. Having time to himself, he tried to imagine what could possibly be wrong. It couldn't be the twins. He himself didn't do anything. Reese was so convinced he was Draco that he would say he was Draco if you drained all of his blood and replaced it with Veritaserum. Malcolm hadn't shown up, nor had Nob. That was almost a certainty.

As Dewey walked into the Hall, he glanced at the Gryffindor table. The twins were already there, talking with a pair of first year girls. They were laughing about something. If anything was wrong, it wasn't a family matter. Satisfied that he truly had no idea what was going on, he sat down next to Avery and ate a hearty breakfast. They talked briefly about the meeting and Avery admitted that he couldn't think of any reason, either.

As breakfast ended, Dewey made his way to the headmaster's office. He stood in front of the gargoyle. The gargoyle had asked for the password. Dewey tried naming several candies. Then he tried naming some plants. All the while he was getting angry. He would never have been in this position if it weren't for Malcolm constantly showing off.

"Malcolm is a royal pain in the butt."

"Close enough," the gargoyle said as it moved aside.

"Should I have said arse?" Dewey asked, and the gargoyle nodded.

The boy stepped on the magical escalator and rode up to the Headmaster's office. He knocked on the door and heard a surprised voice tell him to come in.

"How did you get past the gargoyle?"

"I expressed my true feelings about Malcolm."

Snape nodded. "I suppose it was an obvious password. I will try to be more creative in the future."

"My mom won't let me use words like that," Dewey explained.

Snape gestured toward a chair, and Dewey sat down. He rubbed his forehead as though trying to get rid of a headache. "Someone has a problem that he has given me to deal with. I don't think I need to tell you his name. To make matters worse, I have been directed to talk to you about the matter, at the suggestion of your aunt." He leaned forward. "It should interest you to know that your aunt first suggested Malcolm and was rudely criticized. Despite her effort to help, she is now lower in his favor than she was. Can you explain why Someone would be angry about Malcolm?"

Severus smiled as Dewey's frown increased. He would let the boy think on it for a while. When Dewey started shaking his head, Severus told him why. "It seems that Malcolm, who is still fifteen, tried to kill . . . a few people . . . with a hidden bomb. It was only David Winter's quick reactions that alerted the, um, someone, to the danger. He escaped unharmed."

"What?" Dewey was almost shouting. "That's impossible. I was there when Malcolm took that stupid potion. I watched him change. There's no way he could still be fifteen . . . Did you say David Winter warned him?"

The headmaster smiled. "You didn't know that he was a Death Eater. He received his Dark Mark only two days before the Ministry fell. He helped organize the attack at the Weasley wedding, the one that almost resulted in the capture of a certain rude boy who would have been in his last year in Gryffindor had he returned to school."

"That's impossible."

"Two impossible things?" Snape asked. "Please do tell me how these two things, which did happen, could not possibly have taken place."

"I was with David Winter the entire time from Anthony's birthday party until the Death Eaters attacked his house."

"Really?"

"Really. He told me he was plan B. He had his men set up portkeys, in case things went wrong. He also told me he expected the attack because he had been betrayed."

Snape was staring intently at him. "How can you be sure it was the real David Winter?"

Dewey sat back. He didn't try to look away.

"When I thought I was talking to the real David Winter, after I thought he had survived, he told me that they had used the Cruciatus Curse on him, and that he had suffered some memory loss. If he was really a Death Eater, why would he make up a lie like that? To me? You just proved that SOMEONE considers me to be loyal."

"He has made a very good point, Severus," the portrait of Albus Dumbledore said from behind him.

"And a very annoying one," Snape admitted. "I like treason when it is reason with a capital T. This has the markings of a double-cross."

"Who's he double-crossing?" Dewey asked.

"Severus," Dumbledore admonished. "The conversation? We can take up the issue of David Winter at a later date. And we will need to let the members of the Order know about him."

Snape nodded and turned back to Dewey. "Where were we?"

"Aunt Narcissa wants me to do someone a favor."

"An interesting favor, but she seems to think that you are capable of it." Snape smiled. "It is desired that Draco return to this school as a student, but he is useful as a hostage if he remains at Malfoy Manor. How is this something you can help with?"

Dewey smiled, solving this problem would actually solve one of his own problems. "Nob has the ability to turn people into other people. The first time it has to be under weird circumstances but, after that, all he has to do is hug them and they change. And the spell lasts until it is specifically removed."

"STOP. How is this even possible?"

"It's something to do with the fact that Nob used to be a house elf."

Severus Snape's eye became like saucers as he thought back to the fanciful story that was presented at Nob's adoption hearing before the Wizengamut. He turned his head to the portrait behind him only to have Dumbledore confirm his fear by nodding his head. He turned back to Dewey.

Dewey smiled. "The really weird part of this is we know who Nob's real mom is. You'll never guess."

"The Whomping Willow," Snape said with extreme sarcasm.

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling when he said, "It seems, Dewey, that you were wrong."

Severus Snape dropped his head into his hands and muttered a few incoherent words. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a potion bottle that strongly resembled a brandy flask, removed the cap, drank about one ounce of the liquid directly from the bottle and replaced the cap. "That is very convenient, Dewey, but Nob is missing."

"Yeah, but before he left he changed Reese into Draco and nobody's changed him back yet. And the best part about it is that Reese actually thinks he's Draco."

The headmaster smiled. "That is the first piece of good news I've had in a while. And where is Reese?"

"At Malfoy Manor?"

"But . . . it's only a matter of time before he's discovered. Draco Malfoy has the Dark Mark."

"No, he doesn't. He ran away to, uh, go to the beach, and Reese took his place when the Aurors started asking questions. Reese has the Dark Mark."

There was an extended silence as Snape digested everything he had been told and developed the courage to ask his next question.

"Then where is Draco?"

"In the owlery." Dewey paused to make sure there was no sudden outburst. "Nob likes Draco and one time Draco was . . . well . . . He turned Draco into Malcolm and he's been hiding out as an owl."

"Merlin's beard," Severus Snape muttered. "And he is Malcolm at fifteen?"

"Uhhhh," Dewey replied as he understood the point the Headmaster was trying to make.

"Why don't you fetch him and bring him to me."

Dewey excused himself. Minutes later, he was walking up one flight of stairs after another. When he reached the owlery, he looked around for the familiar tawny owl.

"Guess what?"

The owl flew down and transformed into Malcolm. "You're going to change me back?" Draco asked.

Dewey shook his head. "Professor Snape is. Right after you explain how and why you tried to blow up You-Know-Who."

"I what? NO! Reese didn't do anything that stupid?"

Dewey shook his head again. "No, he didn't." He pointed at Draco. "Malcolm did."

"You must be joking."

"C'mon. Snape'll explain it to you."

A dazed Draco transformed back into an owl and rested on Dewey's arm to be carried to the Headmaster's office. He ruffled his feathers in approval at the password.

* * *

Piama was smiling. "This was a wonderful idea. Francis. Coming back here to live."

Francis agreed. "And I even have a job lined up. It won't be much, but we'll be able to live here."

"No more magic?"

"Except for the neighbors. But it'll be a great job. I'm perfect for it." Francis smiled. "At least I will be once I learn where everything is."

Piama kissed. "My wonderful tour consultant."

"Should Timmy leave the room?" the house elf asked.

* * *

Professor Snape did explain everything to Draco. He also asked Draco's opinion because, as Malcolm, he would give a much more reasoned, if not reasonable answer. Draco was more than willing to cooperate as it meant he would finally have the spell cancelled. His answer, however, was that he had no idea what was going on. Professor Snape cancelled the spell anyway.

"I even forgive you for murdering Professor Dumbledore," Draco said magnanimously.

"Stuff it, Draco. I had to. Even you know that."

"Right. And how do we get Reese away from the Manor so that we can trade places."

Snape grinned. "First, show me the Dark Mark on your arm."

Draco frowned. "That means . . ."

"What that means, Draco, is that you will be following in the grand tradition of your extended family. You will pretend to be someone else. And in marvelous irony, the someone you are going to pretend to be is you. You must insist you are you at all times."

Draco paused. "You're enjoying this. Aren't you?"

"Immensely."

"Should I tell him the rest?" Dewey asked.

"Why Not?"

"The rest of what?" Draco asked.

"About Malcolm and Nob."

"I read the Daily Prophet. And I was at the Weasley wedding," Draco explained. "I saw Malcolm and Nob."

"No, you didn't."

"Dewey, I watched Malcolm dance with his girlfriend. I watched them kiss. And I watched them, you and Nob disappear via portkey." He paused as Dewey was smiling. "Who were they?"

"Who are they?" the headmaster corrected. "They are here at the school until we find the real Malcolm. Do you have any more questions?"

"Yeah. Are we the good guys or the bad guys in all of this?"

"No."

* * *

"Thanks, Timmy," Francis said as they suddenly appeared in London in the alley next to a deserted department store. "Go back home. I'll call Piama if I need help."

He walked out of the alley, turned left and crossed the street. He entered the building and found the office of the Worldwide Travel Agency, LTD. With confidence he walked in and approached the secretary. He told her his name and that he was scheduled for an interview. That was the truth. Hopefully, by the time he returned home he would have been telling the truth to Piama that he already had the job.

"I don't believe this," someone yelled from one of the offices, followed by several words that were not suitable for print. The woman stormed out of the office, her footsteps echoing through the hallway. Everyone was well aware she was coming before they even saw her.

"Did you know about this?" A tall brown haired woman asked the secretary.

The secretary adjusted her glasses to look at the paper she was being handed. "I knew they were nice, if you know what I mean. But nothing like this. What can we do? Everything's already arranged."

"They did this deliberately." With practiced effort the woman screamed the words without actually increasing her volume.

"Can I help?" Francis smelled opportunity.

The woman looked at the secretary. The secretary explained that he was the Yank that called. Used to manage a tourist trap in the States. The woman smiled.

"This is the deal. Two of my best people decided to elope. But before they did they organized a bus tour that ends of sending all the tourists to France. The problem is this. I've got the bookings all paid for, the passage all paid for, and the tourists were never got. You want a job. You take the tour bus, fill it up and deliver it to Dover next Tuesday."

Francis smiled. "At this point, do they have to be paying customers? And if so, how much?"

The woman smiled at him. "You're not gay, are you?"

"I'm Married." Francis paused, then added. "HER name is Piama. We just moved to an old family house in Ottery St. Catchpool with Timmy." He paused again. His nervousness was beginning to show. Francis held his hand out just above the knee. "He's this big already."

The woman smiled. "Is your name Ben or Michael?"

"It's Francis."

"You're hired. Follow me to my office, I'll give you the stats. I'll also tell you the bottom line. Go to the depot. You'll meet the bus driver there. If you meet the bottom line, you're hired permanently. If you meet expectations," the woman was laughing in her eyes, "you can have your choice of the available offices."

* * *

Jared and Simon were not surprised when Dewey walked up to them and directed them into a nearby storage room. The fact that the storage room was empty did not seem to bother anyone. Dewey pointed to the young blond man.

"This is your cousin, Draco Malfoy. Draco, this is Malcolm and he's Nob."

"Why am I always Malcolm?" Jared asked.

"You look like Malcolm," Simon explained.

"But we're twins."

"You act like Malcolm," Draco told him. "He complains all the time about every little thing."

"Yeah," Dewey added helpfully, "and Draco is also your best friend."

"Pleased to meet you," Jared said.

"My pleasure," Draco drawled, "but I have to let you know that I am not really me. I am only pretending to be me." He turned to Dewey. "Snape was right. This is a lot of fun."

"I'll ask," Simon said helpfully. "Who are you really?"

"I'm your brother. The one you don't like."

"I don't like any of my brothers," Jared complained.

"You like me," Simon said.

"But you're my me brother, not my Malcolm brother."

"Yes, I am." Simon turned to Draco. "You're right. This is fun."

"Do I like him?" Jared asked Dewey as he pointed at Simon.

"No, but he likes you, at least he did until the two of you became twins."

"And which brother is my cousin?"

"Reese. You haven't met him."

"Will I meet him?"

"With luck, no."

Jared was surprised as both Dewey and Draco spoke those words together.

"And why do I have to know this?"

Dewey took a deep breath. "You do know that the Carrows are Death Eaters. Well, they also know that Draco is really Reese pretending to be Draco. But they will think that Draco really is Reese and that he looks like Draco. Do you understand?"

Simon raised his hand. "Where is Reese?"

Dewey hesitated. "He's taking Draco's place. He's at Draco's house."

"Do I want to know why?"

Dewey turned to Jared. "Look, I know it sounds stupid, but all you have to do is treat Draco as though he . . . as if . . . treat him as though you're pretending to like him."

"But I already treat everyone else like that."

Draco smiled. "Then you've had plenty of practice."

Jared tried to get the picture straight. "So, You're you, pretending to be my brother who's pretending to be you?"

"Not exactly. I actually think I'm me."

"Okaaay, and Reese thinks he's you, and so does everyone else?"

"Right on your first guess."

"And I'm pretending to be Malcolm, who really does like you but is only pretending to like you because you're supposed to be someone he really doesn't like?"

Dewey smiled. "I think he's getting the hang of it."

"What if I screw up?" Jared asked.

"You won't," Simon assured him. "I have faith in you."

"But . . . look, I don't know what I'm doing half the time. It's going to happen. I just . . . wanted to know."

"If you do something wrong," Draco assured him, "simply make some comment about Gabrielle. Everyone knows that you're hopelessly in love with her. You'll get laughed at, but you won't give yourself away."

"Great. Just get everyone to laugh at me."

"They do it all the time, anyway," Dewey assured him.

Jared decided they were all wrong. This wasn't fun. On the other hand, the advice proved useful.

It was Transfiguration, two weeks to the day. Professor McGonagall was trying to explain the differences between turning an inanimate object into an animate one as opposed to the other way around. Because it was convenient to have a former fourth year student in your first year class, she called on Malcolm to aid her in an example of advanced Transfiguration. Jared knew his wand couldn't perform that type of spell.

"Malcolm?" Professor McGonagall called out a second time. "Are you paying attention?"

"What? Oh. Sorry. It's just that Gabrielle said I would look better with longer hair. What do you think?"

"I think you mother had the right idea when she insisted that the two of you attend different schools. If you could take out your wand, please."

"Wand?" Jared started feeling through his pockets as though he'd forgotten.

"Why don't we discuss this in my office? After dinner."

Jared did not need to feign being upset. He hadn't wanted a detention, either.

* * *

Jared knocked on the door to Professor McGonagall's office. He was told to enter, and he did, closing the door behind him. The professor was seated behind her desk, reviewing some papers. She sat them down as she looked up at her guest.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Tea?"

"It's an English drink. You might have heard of it."

"No? I mean, yes, but why are you asking me if I want tea?"

"I find it helps me relax. And it helps Malcolm to relax but he refuses to admit it."

"Oh, right. I do. Refuse that is."

"You're very good, you know. Almost believable. Except that I talked to Malcolm after his transformation." McGonagall handed Jared a cup and told him to sit down. She poured a cup for herself. "Why are you here, and, to state the question as clearly as possible, what has happened to Malcolm . . . this time?"

"I'm his replacement until they find him."

"Is Malcolm lost?"

Jared bit his lower lip. "More like misplaced."

McGonagall nodded. It was going to be a long school year, but at least it would be interesting. "I assume Nob is misplaced as well?" Jared nodded. "Then I suppose I will have to make excuses for both of you." She paused in thought. "In view of the unique connection between you and your brother, you will be his personal tutor. That will satisfy almost everyone. And I will be the one to decide what the two of you will be doing during the tutoring sessions."

"Yes, Professor. Excuse me, Professor. Why is Malcolm so important?"

"The Dark Lord is convinced that Malcolm is loyal to him. I'm not sure why, but it does give us a possible advantage. And to be honest, we don't have too many advantages at this point. If Malcolm is missing, HE will become suspicious, especially considering who his relatives are. Do you see?" Jared nodded. "I assume Dewey has discovered his brother's secret?"

Jared nodded again. He half expected the professor to say that was another advantage, but she was frowning. He guessed that since Dewey knew how to go to another dimension, she suspected it was only a matter of time until others learned as well. If he could read minds, he would have found out that he was correct. McGonagall was already considering the catastrophe it would be if Voldemort managed to obtain such an ability.

"Malcolm, I need to ask you certain questions. Please be completely honest. It is important that I know as much about the current situation as possible. About who I can trust and who I can't."

And it began. Jared risked trusting this woman, simply because she found him out and helped him to keep his secret. He started at the beginning, when his family moved to the old house, the discovery of the book, gaining the Sight. He jumped forward to Ginny's sudden appearance and, a few days later, that of Dewey and David Winter.

McGonagall smiled when he mentioned being able to see the ghosts and assured him, when he related a particular incident, that she was the one who taught Dennis Creevey that particular spell. He would not be in trouble because of it. Jared's favorite moment in the telling was when he reached the end. Not because he was finished, but because of how Professor McGonagall laughed when she heard about Draco Malfoy's identity problem.

* * *

Francis was reeling. Here it was, London, the Second day of September, and he needed to find forty people. Forty people willing to spend money. He walked past the empty department store again to the garage on the far side. A man was standing just inside.

"You the dupe," the man said. "I'm your driver, Colin Creevey."

Francis introduced himself. "I know a boy by that name. He goes to school with my brother."

Michael smiled as he found they had something in common. His brother was always talking about his kids but never really saying anything. He knew the boys went to some fancy school in Scotland, but that was all. And that was another reason to like this young man.

"You're talking about my nephew." Colin told him. "We've got time. Let me show you around. Would you like some coffee or tea?"

As Colin asked the question, a man came running out of the alley, two other men close on his heels. The first impression was that the two men were chasing the first man. But all three looked scared. The two men were following.

Francis wasn't blind to what was going on. He even knew where he was. And he had a good guess as to why the men were running. Without thinking, he pointed into the garage. Surprise did not overcome fear, and the three ran into the garage. Colin, not sure of what was going on, opened a door to the waiting room, closing it after the men entered.

On cue, four men and two women suddenly emerged from the same alley. All of them were trying to act natural. Francis took a deep breath and walked toward them. He began pointing. "One ducked into the building across the street there. You must have seen him. One tried to run into our garage, he ran down the street into the store next to us. And the third, I don't know. He disappeared."

"You know who we are?" the tallest man asked, as though size gave him authority.

"You're Malcolm's brother?" a woman asked.

"Guilty as charged. Sorry I can't help more. Malcolm got all the talent."

"They won't get away," the woman assured him as she sent two of the men to the store and the other man and woman across the street. "And they're harmless criminals, more scared of their own shadows."

As she and the tall man headed back to the alley, she told him, "There's a squib who knows how to be useful. If only those others would learn their place."


	12. As Time Goes By

**Chapter 12: As Time Goes By**

Jared and Simon were gathered with the other first years for their first ever experience with Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid looked at them with bright eyes and gave them a wave when he saw them. He called for everyone to gather around as he brought out a creature that only one or two had seen before.

He warned everyone to be careful as he presented them with a hippogriff. It was a majestic animal with a lion's body and an eagle's head and wings. The animal looked at the crowd of students with its orange eyes. When the hippogriff looked at Simon, the boy couldn't help but say, "You're beautiful."

"Now, they're proud beasts and don't take kindly to insults. My very firs' class," Hagrid explained, "I had a student who didn't listen and he got his arm slashed open. Do any of you think you can mind yer manners? I need a volunteer."

Simon wasn't thinking about being Nob or about Nob being Hagrid's godson. All he thought about was getting a closer look at the beast. He rushed forward before anyone else had a chance to move.

"What do you want me to do, Hagrid?" The boy wasn't looking at the Professor at all.

"Now, this is Witherwings. Just stand at a safe distance and bow to 'im"

Simon did as he was instructed. He bowed deeply and stood there waiting. After what seemed like an eternity, the hippogriff bowed in return.

"Approach 'im carefully," Hagrid warned. Simon did as he was instructed and when he was close enough, he slowly raised his hand and began stroking Witherwings' side.

"You are beautiful," Simon said with feeling. The hippogriff made a barking noise, causing the students to step back, but Simon could only laugh. He turned to Hagrid. "I think he likes me."

"He does," the giant admitted. "It's not every day someone is so eager to meet him." He leaned down and whispered, "would you like to ride him?"

"Can I?" He turned to Witherwings. "Can I really?"

The hippogriff nodded its head and that was all Hagrid needed to know. He picked his godson up and put him on the creature's back. As he stepped back, he warned the boy to hold on tight.

Witherwings took a running start and flapped his wings. In moments, they were airborne. As they cleared the tops of the trees, Simon let out a whoop of joy, to be answered by another loud bark from the hippogriff.

On the ground, Hagrid was smiling. He half suspected those two would be gone for a while. The students also had the same feeling, and quite a few were jealously watching the pair as they flew over the school and out of sight. They refocused on the Professor when he went behind his hut to the corral and came back with two more hippogriffs.

After Jared finally had his turn to meet one of the beasts, neither of these was inclined to do more than let the students touch them, he walked over to Professor Hagrid. "You should know," he said smiling, "you are officially my brother's favorite teacher."

"Well, he jus' became my favorite student. If he ever comes back, that is."

* * *

Mark was sitting behind the driver's seat as one of the passengers was running into the house he had pulled up to. Francis had gone with him. Now they were coming out with the man's wife and three children. And there was another family of four behind them. With the last stop they had made, there were now fourteen people in the tour group. Then a lady ran out of the house and up to Francis, giving him a piece of paper. Mark knew what it was. A list. More people to pickup. 

As everyone boarded the bus and took their seats, Francis quickly checked his schedule. He then told Mark where they were going to next. Mark nodded.

"Francis, what's going on? You have these blokes bringing their families on the tour, and I swear, they're all running scared. What did these folks do?"

Francis tried to think. He finally came up with the only thing he could come up with. Telling the truth.

"Mark, do you believe in magic?"

* * *

"Why, if it isn't Draco Malfoy," Pansy Parkinson said. She and the Slytherins with her laughed. Draco understood at once. Someone had told. But he didn't mind. The situation could be useful. 

He walked to class. It was mandatory muggle studies. He ended up sitting with Millicent Bulstrode. Millicent decided to hold hands. Draco pulled his hand away. She reached for his hand. Draco yelled, "WILL YOU STOP."

"I thought you loved me?" Millicent said.

"Reese loves you. I'm not Reese."

"Prove it," Millicent demanded.

Draco sighed. Everyone had probably been told that he thinks he's Draco, so of course he would say he was. Millicent, however, operated on a different level. Love was eternal. It was on the locker that Reese had given her. Therefore Reese would still love her even if he was Draco. Therefore, the fact that Draco did not love her meant that Reese had jilted her for another girl. He had to find a way to prove who he was, or he was dead. She was rubbing her right fist in her left palm. She meant business.

Draco smiled. On the other hand, this was Millicent. "C'mon." He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the potions class. Several students, misunderstanding what they thought was going on, gave their best wolf whistles. To her credit, Alecto Carrow acted as though everything was normal.

They walked down the hallway, around the corner past Transfiguration. Two more turns and they were there. Draco dragged Millicent into the Defense Against the Dark Arts Class. Sixth Year Gryffindors. He gestured for Millicent to watch her then, ignoring everyone's stares, he walked up to Ginny Weasley, grabbed her and kissed her. As everyone stared, Ginny's arms went around Draco's neck as she returned the kiss.

"Mister Malfoy?" Amycus Carrow demanded. "What are you doing?"

"What? Oh! Subverting the enemy to our cause, Sir. Permission to continue?"

Millicent turned to the mousy haired boy staring at her. "They look so beautiful together."

Colin Creevey simply nodded his head.

* * *

Francis looked back at the bus filled with wizardly refugees. He had a total of forty seven people, half of them children. As the bus pulled into its parking spot off Station Road, he took the microphone from its holder and turned on the speaker. 

"Okay, people, before we go I need to tell you two things. The first is to stay in the group. And the second is to remember that all of you are muggles. We have made arrangements with the French government to make sure you can get through customs or whatever they call it now. Once there, they'll advise you of your options. Remember, no magic. And don't say HIS name. There's a hex on it."

Mark opened the door and Francis led the way into Ashford Station. The adults who followed were clearly nervous, but for most of the children it was a holiday. As they approached the platform, a heavy set middle-aged man with long hair and a suit came forward.

"Mon Ami, Francis," he said as they shook hands.

"Greaser? I didn't recognize you. When did you start wearing ties?"

"I am now Henri Renault. And, like you, I am a tour guide." He laughed. "This is a change, ain't it. What's it been? Five years since they shipped you off to that boot camp?" Greaser stared at Francis' hand. "Is that a ring?"

Francis smiled. "Her name's Piama." He sighed. "When did we become respectable?"

"It had to happen. Good times can't last forever. Tell you what. Give me a call and we'll get together, hash out the old stuff. But train's do in five minutes." They shook hands and Francis headed back to the bus.

Greaser turned to the crowd. "Listen up, people. Train's due any minute. I have all your passes right here, and a reserved car. How many of you have been through the Chunnel?"

"Chunnel?" an eight-year-old boy asked.

"Where you been hiding? It's the Chunnel. You going to France by going UNDER the English Channel." Even some of the adults were amazed.

* * *

It had been two weeks. 

Simon had received detention for missing his charms class. He tried to explain why he missed it but Flitwick wouldn't let him out of it. And for his detention he had to explain what it was like to fly a hippogriff for a three hour tour of Scotland. And there was plenty of tea and pastries to convince him to keep talking.

Then Jared received detention for talking in class. To himself. He didn't even try to explain that he was telling the ghost, Basil, how he cast a specific spell. For his detention, he had to dust all the feathers that they would be using for the floating charms.

And now it was Friday. Classes were over. And the only thing they had to do was visit Hagrid on Saturday morning so they, meaning Simon, could find out in advance about what animals they would see. And everything seemed normal.

It was Jared who first noticed. "Becca, I think I see Malcolm."

Rebecca Dutton laughed. "I thought you were Malcolm."

Jared smiled. "No, the Malcolm who helped you, me from the future."

"And you see him?" Becca started looking around.

"There," Simon answered from the other side of Jared. "The older boy in the back corner by the Slytherin table."

Rebecca looked at the corner. "There's no one there."

"He's standing there, kind of funny though," Simon noted. He nudged his brother. "Remember what the ghosts asked us?" he whispered. "Can we see through invisibility cloaks?"

"You have to whisper lower," Becca whispered, "if you don't want everyone to hear."

"You don't see him, though?" Jared whispered in a lower tone. She shook her head. "We don't want to stare at him, but I'd like to watch him. Could we switch seats? It would be less suspicious if we keep talking."

Becca nodded and they switched places. When someone commented, she said it was to find out which one she really liked better. And she was in the perfect position to have things explained to her in a crowded room.

Jared was the only one not to turn to face the front when the headmaster began to speak. His view was not perfect, but he could see where the older Malcolm was. And he noticed Malcolm start to move. He turned around. Charles Rowland was standing there, invisible. The ghosts made it a point that one of them would always be in the area.

"I've been listening. Where is he?" Charles was smiling.

Jared turned to look, then back to Charles. "I think he's by Dewey?"

Charles was floating over the room. By some method, Edwin and Basil also appeared. Basil was looking to Jared for instructions, just in case.

"What is it?" Becca asked.

"I've two ghosts watching Dewey and another one watching me." Jared saw movement and watched as Malcolm made his way to the corner. After a minute, he saw Malcolm leave the Great Hall. The ghosts were there when he turned back. All three were standing in the table. It did not help Jared's appetite that the food had just appeared. And he hadn't heard a single word the headmaster said.

"I would swear I saw something," Edwin said, with a glare at Charles.

"A sparkle, a glint of light?" Charles questioned. "Like dust in the air?"

"Exactly," Edwin said at the last remark. "Except the dust was in the glass." He turned to Jared. "And what shall we do?"

"Stop him," Simon answered. "It could be serious."

"But what if we're wrong?" Jared asked. "We'll look like fools."

"You do it," Becca said. "From what I've heard, no one will be surprised."

Jared was worried. What were they dealing with? He didn't have time to race across the room. Students were filling their plates and pouring drinks. "Crap," he said to himself. He jumped up on the table and kicked a platter full of fried chicken out of his way.

"LISTEN UP! HEY! LISTEN UP!"

Everyone in the hall fell silent. And Jared had all of them looking directly at him. Except for a second year Gryffindor who was picking pieces of fried chicken from his lap.

"Poison?" Simon suggested.

"POISON!" Jared shouted. "SOMEONE'S ABOUT TO BE POISONED." He pointed at Dewey. "I BET IT'S YOU."

The Headmaster was standing. "MALCOLM, ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?"

"Um, yes Sir. I MEAN YES SIR. BUT . . . COULD YOU CHECK PLEASE?"

Snape signaled for Jared to get off the Gryffindor table and to join him at the Slytherin table. He had the Potions Professor join him. Jared was nervous. What if he was wrong. And worse, what if he was right, but about the wrong person.

Professor Slughorn, who taught potions, examined the food on Dewey's plate. He also examined the platters in that area as well as the pitchers of juice. To be on the safe side, he examined the plates of the students on either side of the suspected victim.

"All the food is safe. And I am not surprised." Slughorn made his disapproval of Malcolm's latest prank obvious to everyone.

"It's his glass," Jared blurted out.

"Really?" Snape asked. "Horace checked the juice. And Dewey hasn't poured anything into his glass." Suspicion filled the headmaster's face. "Horace, please check if Dewey's glass is poisonous. I would hate to have him die from eating it."

Slughorn snorted and turned around, leaning between Dewey and Avery. He waved his wand over the glass. "Nothing, Severus. It's . . ." He squinted, and leaned directly over the glass to look into it. He grabbed Avery's glass and looked into it as well. Ignoring the stares, he reached for another empty glass, looked into it carefully, then dropped it into the mashed potatoes. He picked up Dewey's glass again. He had become the center of attention.

"Horace?"

"Headmaster, I can't explain it. His glass is dirty."

Laughter barely started when Snape yelled for silence. He examined the glass. He waved his wand over it. The glass glowed yellow to show it was safe. He then waved his wand over the pumpkin juice in the pitcher. The pitcher also glowed yellow. "Professor Slughorn, if you would do me the honor." Slughorn picked up the pitcher and poured juice into the glass. Snape waved his wand.

The glass glowed bright red.

Snape handed the glass to Slughorn. The potions professor excused himself and went to his office so he could test it. Then Snape turned to Jared. "I will see you, your brothers, and everyone even remotely involved in this incident in my office. Now."

"I'm not really hungry, anyway," Dewey said.

* * *

Severus Snape glared at everyone in the room. It was bad enough that he had Dewey and the twins there. Rebecca Dutton smiled innocently at him. The second year boy, the one who started late the previous year, kept insisting he was assaulted by chicken wings. And why Draco Malfoy was here was beyond his understanding. At least he didn't force Ginny Weasley to come with him. She decided to come on her own. 

"And now, Jared, you will explain how a muggle was able to discover something so obtuse that even two potions masters would have overlooked it."

"Jared?" Rebecca Dutton asked.

"Then you'd be Simon Grace," the chicken stained boy said. "It's true, then? The Spiderwick Chronicles? I read them, you know."

"I thought you only saw the movies?" Snape demanded, effectively silencing the boy.

"They have a beautiful house," Ginny told Draco.

"Why don't we have introductions, and complete honesty," Snape suggested. "I have other problems than this to deal with, and I would like to have this one resolved. And I also want to know what it is I don't know."

Ginny Weasley started everything off on the right foot. "I'm Ginny, and I've secretly been in love with Draco for the past four years." The other right foot.

Severus Snape rubbed his hand against his forehead. He was getting more honesty that he wanted. It didn't help that the portrait of Dumbledore behind him was chuckling.

"Hi, I'm Draco Malfoy, the real one. Everyone seems to think that I'm really Malcolm's brother, Reese, made to look like me. And I'm loving it. I was able to kiss my girlfriend in public and get away with it. Except for detention with Professor Carrow."

"I'm Dewey. I'm Malcolm's brother. I discovered his means of traveling between worlds, and I've been trying to figure out what happened to Malcolm. I'm the one who found Ginny with Jared and Simon when she became lost." Dewey gave a brief description of how the two boys had become trapped in this world. Ginny helped out by assuring them it was a terrible thing but they would set it right somehow.

Jared and Simon decided that it was their turn and explained how they had the Sight. Thus they could see through invisibility spells and cloaks. That was how they saw Malcolm. Rebecca, for her part pointed out that Malcolm had told her that he was from the future.

Everyone turned to the boy with grease stains all over the front of his robes.

"Oh, I'm nobody. I've had too much chicken is all."

"Sorry," Jared admitted, and paused. "I'm sorry. I don't know your name."

Simon shook his head, as did Rebecca. Dewey pointed out he was in Slytherin. Draco said ditto. Ginny smiled. "Don't be shy. It's a nice name. He's Jack . . ."

"JONATHAN," the boy shouted. He frowned and blushed as in a humble tone he said, "Jonathan Sparrow." He looked up. "Aren't you going to laugh?"

"Why?" Dewey asked. "It's not even a funny name, like my neighbor back home, Honey B. Hivey."

"Oh, I guess you don't have it here?"

Simon nudged Jonathan. "We do, in our world. And we think it's a GREAT name."

"Really? And is this Malcolm from your world, too? I know he can't be from mine. There, he's just an actor." Everyone fell silent. "What did I say now?"

Severus Snape was staring in disbelief. "You have just pointed out the obvious. After all, Malcolm knows how to travel between the planes. So does Dewey. Why should we assume that they are the only ones?"

"Professor," Draco asked, "Why would Malcolm want to come here?"

"And why would he want to kill me?" Dewey asked.

"Sir," Jonathan asked. "Before we continue, I need to know. Are we the good guys or the bad guys?"

Dewey and Severus answered in unison.

"NO."

* * *

Francis was sitting outside the security office of the Ministry for Magic. He had everything rehearsed. He knew his lines. The only thing he didn't plan on was this. The file clerks and paperwork, yes. But not to talk to the chief enforcers. The door opened and he was ushered into the room. 

Two men and one woman were standing there. One man was seated. He was an almost nondescript man except that he looked vaguely untrustworthy. Francis related to him at once. One of the men behind him was a tall man with a black mustache and a swollen eye that looked as though it would never heal. He was the one who spoke.

"Mulciber, you'll like this young man. He has an excellent attitude."

The man in the chair snorted. "I know all about him. He used to date your niece. And he was helpful upon a chance meeting with her in chasing down some escaped prisoners. Did they capture them?"

Everyone was smiling at MacNair, but not in friendship. They knew the answer. MacNair was smiling also.

"Those three, no. But the search this young man directed led to a revision of Auror practices, and has already resulted the arrests of eight Mudbloods."

"Search he directed?"

"He pointed out where the escaped prisoners had gone. He told us how they escaped. Now we have a safety net for future catastrophes 'within' the Ministry."

The smiles faded from the other two men. Francis wasn't sure of what was going on, but one thing was obvious. The three escapees were only a small part. And now everyone was trying to shift the blame. MacNair seemed to be winning.

"And how will this plan increase security?" Mulciber said in a direct effort to change the direction of the conversation. "What this man is planning on doing is inviting hundreds of muggles to walk around directly above us. How can you call that security?"

Francis smiled. That was his cue. "Thousands, Sir. Not hundreds. And they'll be coming from all over. A lot of them will keep coming back on a regular basis. Muggles will be all over the place. It'll be safer for wizards than it is now."

The woman gave a polite and low-key snort. "Hem, hem. And how could having so many muggles around, make the Ministry safer?"

"Look at it this way. You are sitting underneath an abandoned building. That makes the area look bad. Most people will stay away. But not all. The only ones who will stay around are the bad ones. And that always means potential trouble. Especially with people coming to work."

"EXACTLY," MacNair interrupted. He looked at the third man, "And that is what caused your problem in the first place, Runcorn."

"Anyway," Francis said when he was prompted to continue. "Because of the large numbers of people that would come, hopefully, it would also improve the surrounding areas. A Wizard or Witch would have any number of ways to appear or disappear without causing a commotion. Plus, once the conversion to a mall was completed, I would have my own people all over the place, ready to watch for anything."

"Mall?" Mulciber asked.

"An indoor version of Diagon Alley, except this would be for muggles. We divide the space inside the department store into different areas and rent them out to the, um, retailers."

The woman, who was wearing a dark pink dress, and looked like a toad, raised her hand just enough to let Francis know that she had a question. "You said people could disappear without a problem?"

"Yeah."

"And you can guarantee that?"

"Yeah."

The woman smiled. "I can find that extremely useful. I say yes."

MacNair chuckled. "You already know where I stand."

Runcorn scowled. "I don't like it, but it will be better than the way things are now."

Mulciber nodded without looking at anyone. "And you, young man. How quickly can you get these retailers to open their shops?"

"Well, there's a few problems. We need to gut the old building and rebuild from scratch. The exterior has historical value so it'll have to stay. Then we'll need permits . . ."

Mulciber was grinning. "You squibs never really understand what wizards can do. We can have everything transfigured to your plans, which we already have. We can have all the mudblood paperwork done as well. And we can do this all by tomorrow morning. Don't you know that?"

"I knew that you could," Francis said hastily. "I didn't think you would."

"Consider it done. We'll talk again about your security measures."

Francis thanked everyone politely, and left the office. He was already out of the Ministry and almost out of the alley when he suddenly understood what the Frog Lady meant about people disappearing. As he stepped out of the alley, Mark was there.

"We 'ave a problem, Frank. Missus in charge gave us a new tour guide. Likes your work so much she wants you in the office." He nodded toward the department store. "Did it go well?"

"They're wizards," Francis hissed, "And they loved the idea. Everything will be ready by tomorrow."

Mark almost laughed. "You'll be open by Christmas, then?"

Francis shook his head. "We'll be open by Halloween." He began to walk away, then turned back. "Play it by ear with the new guy. Call me if he starts to freak out."

"Got it. Keep mum about the whole thing and hit the panic button if I have to."

Francis walked into his office building, took the elevator up to his floor and stepped out. The lady in charge was smiling at him.

"Sorry about the change," she said without feeling, "but you've done brilliant. What news do you have for me?"

"Bookings are complete for the next tours two, four and six weeks away. The one eight weeks away is already half full. I just found out our second tour is leaving tomorrow without me. And my man on the inside said that the indoor mall across the street is going to start leasing as of tomorrow."

"Indoor mall? That department store's been under construction for years."

"Well," Francis admitted. "The actual work was done months and months ago. Permits got held up in government red tape. Now the owners are trying to get it up and running as quickly as possible."

"Can your friend get us a good price? A place in a mall would be a big asset. And we'll want to know what shops will be there."

"I'll ask," Francis told her. Having made another person happy, he walked to his actual office. Harmon was there at the secretary's desk, going over a ledger. "Hi."

"Francis, we need to talk. Now."

Francis closed the door, and locked it to be on the safe side. Percival Harmon laid out the ledger so that they both could see. He pointed out the various numbers and what they meant. Balance Transfers, Interest Payments, Withdrawals and Deposits. In particular, Francis was directed to a large number of balance transfers that all occurred within a two day period the previous year. The amounts were large. Harmon admitted that the amount of money they had tapped into scared even himself.

"Please tell me that the Ministry agreed to the scam."

Francis told him everything that happened. And he felt better for the telling. Misery does love company.

* * *

"This is great," Nob said, "I bet the Weasleys will be surprised when they see us." He stepped through the door with Malcolm to find himself at the top of a flight of stairs, overlooking a beautiful manicured garden. 

"Wow, they went all out for the wedding." Then reality struck. "Malcolm, this isn't the Weasley wedding. This is . . . YOU DIDN'T?"

[_Hey, so we missed some school time. But look where I get to meet Gabrielle._

"It's Halloween, Nob. It's a special time."

[_I get to see Gabrielle._

"If you wanted to see your stupid girlfriend," Nob hissed, "then why didn't you go to the Weasley wedding."

"Because here, smarty pants, Mom and Dad won't be around."

"You Jerk. They aren't going to the wedding because of Jamie. You know, the new kid in the house. Our literal baby brother."

Malcolm looked shocked. "Why didn't anybody tell me?"

Nob hesitated. "Well, Mom made me promise, or else. She thinks you see too much of her."

[_That's only because I deliver my own mail._

Malcolm patted his brother on the shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll find a girl for you."

"I don't want a girl," Nob said. "Um, what kind of girl, not that I'm interested in girls, but, I don't know . . ."

"It's called puberty," Malcolm assured him. "It's just starting, but it'll make the next few months interesting."

"It's starting early, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it started early for me the last time, too."


	13. Halloween

**Chapter 13: Halloween**

"These children are stubborn," Alecto Carrow insisted. "They've been filled with too much gibberish."

Amycus Carrow smiled. It was not friendly. "What we need, Headmaster, is a uniform system of punishment. I am trying to teach certain spells to the older students but it is difficult to find volunteers. If the students know that they're going to be punished, they will try to behave. It's a win-win situation."

Severus Snape glared at his desk. While he would not mind inflicting punishment on any of his students, he also had a role to maintain. And he had to maintain it at any cost. "Professor Carrow, this is still a school. Amycus, I must insist on my right to overrule any punishments that are handed out. And if I do, I must not be questioned. I assure you that I will have good reason to do so."

"I understand, Headmaster. And I assure you I will accept your judgement, should you ever intervene."

"We should start by cancelling Hogsmeade weekends," Alecto offered.

"No," Snape said at once. "That will not happen. And I trust the heads of house to make sure all of their students return."

Alecto gave her best smile. "Wonderful, Severus, wonderful. That will force them to tow the line."

"My dear sister," Amycus said graciously, "it also fits into our plans perfectly. You know how students misbehave when they think no one is watching."

Severus decided on that note that it might be safer for the students if he did cancel the weekends. He would change his mind later in the week.

"There is another matter," Snape insisted. "The Halloween party is coming up. Not everyone will be attending."

"Good," Amycus said. "Those mudbloods don't deserve ANY parties in my opinion."

"That is not what I meant. Certain students have been invited to the Beaubatons Cotillion. All of them will be attending. And they will know to behave properly. I don't want to hear any objections from either of you."

"They'll need chaperones," Alecto said quickly.

"They have them," Snape said, dashing her hopes. "It was suggested, by Someone, that the Nott twins can guard the . . . other set of twins."

"Him, I mean, them. Now he's twice the idiot he used to be. Those French will look at him and think all Death Eaters are fools."

"To be surprised at a later date," Snape said dryly. "The point is that I do not want either of you to publically or privately object to anyone who is going."

"All I want to know," Amycus said, "is why those two are still here, or even why they came here in the first place?"

Severus Snape had to pause. Despite talking to the two Notts, he had no idea why they had come. When he dared to ask Voldemort, he was told to keep them out of trouble and out of the way.

"THAT is no concern of yours," Severus told the Defense Professor.

* * *

"We have a new detention policy," Amycus Carrow told the first year Gryffindors, "and your class will be the first in your house to be part of it, on the good side." He pointed to a third year Ravenclaw who was in the corner, shaking. "This student broke the rules and needs to be punished. His punishment is to be the target as we try our spells. I don't expect you to do very well but practice makes perfect."

"Which spell, Professor?" Simon asked.

"The Cruciatus Curse."

"Cool. Can I go first?"

Jared knew what he, as Malcolm, had to do. "Wait, I should be the one to go first. I'm older than he is."

"We're the same age," Simon, as Nob, retorted. "Thanks to your dumb move."

"You started it. And that means I have to finish it. And I'll finish by going first."

"Yeah?" came the angry reply. "You and what army?"

"An army of five," Malcolm/Jared said, showing his fist.

"You'd have to use your fist because you're too stupid to know how to hold a wand."

"You're just as smart as I am, so you just called yourself a doofus."

"BOYS," Amycus shouted as he stepped between them. He added the word, "OOF," as the boy he thought of as Malcolm punched him in the stomach. When the other twin kicked his shin, he also included the word, "AAHHH."

"Sorry, Professor. It was his fault. So, can I go first?"

"I called going first, first, so I go first. Right, Professor?"

"Now, boys, I do appreciate your eagerness but we must have a sense of fair play. The one who asked first will go first."

"That's me. I asked first."

"No, you didn't, you liar. I did. I'm going first." The boy pulled out his wand and pointed.

"Not at me, you idiot," The Professor shouted. He pointed at the Ravenclaw. "AT HIM"

"Get out of the way, Professor," the boy behind him said. "I'll take care of that lying rat for calling me names." The Professor felt himself poked in the back with a wand. "C'mon, get out of the way."

"Move," the boy in front of him said. Amycus had lost track of who was who although he had a feeling it was Malcolm talking to him now. "MOVE," the boy shouted angrily, "OR I'LL TEST IT ON YOU."

"YOU SEE," the other boy shouted. "HE DOESN'T CARE. JUST AS LONG AS . . . HE . . . GOES . . . FIRST."

"STOP," Amycus screamed as both boys, on either side of him, pointed their wands. He said evenly and angrily, "No One Is Going First. I've Decided To Cancel This Class. Everyone Is Dismissed." He looked back and forth between both boys. "Especialy the two of you. From now on, in this class, you will be learning the lumos spell. FOR THE NEXT EIGHT MONTHS." He held his head up. "EVERYONE, GET OUT." He glared at the Ravenclaw. "I SAID EVERYONE."

As they ran out of the room Jared turned to his brother. "That was a great idea. I know you're smart, but that was brilliant. I'm glad I caught on."

"I knew you would. You're not as dumb as you look." To emphasize his point, Simon added, "Malcolm."

"Well, I'm smart enough to know it won't work a second time."

* * *

Professor Snape eyed the teaching staff warily. Most of them despised him. Most of those because he was the man who killed the previous headmaster. Two others despised him because he insisted on doing his job properly, and because he ranked higher with the Dark Lord than they did. The one exception was Professor Binns, who was dead. Severus suspected that the History Professor still thought Armando Dippet was in charge.

"Madame Maxime of Beaubatons has sent a total of six invitations to the school, concerning the annual Cotillion which will be held two weeks from today. As things stand, I am inclined to approve letting all of the invited students attend. But I must be assured that they will represent Hogwarts properly."

"And what do you mean by 'properly'?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"That they will not do anything to embarrass the school."

"But that would mean that Malcolm isn't going." Professor Slughorn noted.

"Malcolm is the exception," Snape informed him. "His popularity is such that people would look poorly on the school if we did not let him attend."

"Poorly," Alecto Carrow asked. "You mean they would look down on us if we did not send that disgrace of a wizard to France? Whyever for?"

"I have no idea." Severus showed his annoyance. "They just will."

"Headmaster."

Snape rolled his eyes. "You don't have to raise your hand, Amycus."

"Sorry, but I wanted to ask a question about Malcolm. I know he's going but . . . could we let them keep him?"

"His mother said no. Any other questions about Malcolm? Good. His brother, Norbert, will be going as well, only because he is now Malcolm's twin brother. If you have any questions about that, please consult his head of house or the back issues of the Daily Prophet." His voice took an almost happy look. "Malcolm's other brother, Dewey, will be escorted to Beaubatons immediately after breakfast tomorrow."

"May I ask why?" Alecto Carrow asked.

"The Third Annual Cotillion Quidditch Competition. Dewey is the seeker for last year's winning team. This year, several other teams have demanded to play. Eight teams, counting the two that played last year, are now in the contest." Severus understood that he had everyone's attention. "From what I have been told, the teams will be randomly paired. Starting on the Twenty Third, there will be one game each day. There is a one day break then, over the next two days, the winners of the first round pair off. There is another break of one day. On Halloween night, the winning teams play each other."

"Night?" Someone asked.

"Yes," Severus said with a genuine smile on his face. "The Championship game is played in the dark."

"He'll need a Chaperone," Alecto Carrow said at once. "I volunteer."

"He has one." The Headmaster was enjoying himself. "It was requested that Rubeus Hagrid, or to be specific the Professor for Care of Magical Creatures, be the chaperone. Apparently, they are having trouble with some of the animals in their care."

"YES!" Professor Hagrid yelled. As everyone turned to look at him. Hagrid began to look nervous. "I'll, er, see the lad behaves proper, Headmaster."

"Despite my misgivings, Colin Creevey will also be permitted to attend. I know there have been several complaints about his attitude but, since I have more complaints about Malcolm, I have no choice but to let him go. Also, Matthew Zeller has been invited to return, as he was a guest last year. Are there any questions?"

Professor McGonagall raised her hand. "You said six. But you only mentioned five. Or does Professor Hagrid count as the sixth person?"

"The final invitation is for Nob. Because of the reason Malcolm is going, Nob is permitted to, shall we say, bring a date."

* * *

"Hagrid, it'll be fine."

Rubeus Hagrid stood there in the headmaster's office, shaking like a leaf. His moleskin jacket had been brushed so that every hair was in place. He had even trimmed his beard and combed his hair. "Ye don' understan'. I get to spend two weeks with Maxime, an' I don't have anythin' else ta do. 'Cept watch out fer you, an' watch seven games o' Quidditch."

Dewey smiled. "And I get to play three of them. It'll be great."

Snape had his usual frown. "I would like to remind you, Professor Hagrid, that this is not for fun. We are removing Dewey from this school because of an attempt on his life. Until certain safeguards are in place, he will be safer, hopefully, if he is away from the school. You are to explain all of this to Madam Maxime. But for this competition, you would be escorting him somewhere else. And you are going because you are the only teacher I can spare."

Dewey noticed that neither his nor Hagrid's smiles faded in the slightest bit. After a few more admonitions, Snape sent them to Flitwick's office to get the portkey. On their way there, Dewey again had second thoughts. Not about the trip to France, but about telling Snape that the book of prophecy had been stolen from his trunk.

* * *

"You have to invite someone," Jared explained.

"But who?" Simon asked. "Whoever I invite will think Nob likes her. Or worse, she'll find out I'm me and think I like her."

"Then ask a girl you like."

Simon gave the password and the portrait opened. They entered the Gryffindor common room. He looked around and spotted Ginny Weasley sitting with Neville Longbottom.

"Ginny, I need a favor."

"Nob?"

"I need a date for the Beaubatons Cotillion."

Ginny smiled. "And you waited until the very last minute to ask your sister?"

"Well . . . yeah."

"Is Draco going?"

"No."

"Then I'm not interested. I do know who you should ask."

"Will she want to dance? I was warned by Draco that I'll be expected to dance the first dance."

Neville laughed. "Make sure she's photogenic. You're sure to make the papers if you do that."

Simon became nervous. "Why?"

"It means you're engaged."

Simon groaned. "I don't feel well. I won't be able to go."

Ginny put her hand on his forehead. "No fever. Madam Pomfrey will have you all well again before dinner."

"What do I do?"

Ginny pointed to the girl coming down the stairs. "She's the obvious choice."

"Becca? Yeah. Thanks Ginny. You're a real help."

"Just like a sister should be?"

Simon smiled and walked over to Becca. "I need to ask you a favor."

Rebecca Dutton smiled. "As long as it isn't dangerous, I agree."

"Great. We'll be leaving in about three hours and you need to dress in your best clothes."

"What?"

But Simon was already gone. He raced up the stairs to his dorm to begin to get ready. Ginny Weasley was left to explain things to the confused girl.

* * *

"Where are the Notts?"

Severus Snape was amazed. After all the requests to stay at Hogwarts instead of in town, the two biggest idiots in the wizarding world had disappeared.

Professor McGonagall couldn't help but be amused. She found anything that upset the headmaster to be amusing. It helped that Draco Malfoy was the one to answer.

"Dewey owled me about that. They went to Beaubatons."

"They are supposed to go to Beaubatons but as part of a group."

Professor Snape frowned as he was handed the message. "Just wanted to let you know. Nicholas and Nickelby accepted the job. They'll be sharing the task teaching Potions until the regular Professor recovers. Thanks for the idea." He turned to Draco. "What idea?"

"Huh? Yours. You said you'd love it if anyone found a way to get rid of those two, short of killing them. They didn't tell you?"

"I have a group of students leaving in two hours and I need both of them as chaperones." Snape scowled at Draco. The Carrows would jump at the chance to go, and now he no longer had an excuse to refuse them. Unless he could think of something fast. Draco, for some reason, smiled at him.

"Mister Malfoy, I need you to chaperone the group. Is that acceptable to you?"

The smile remained. "Beaubatons? I'd love to."

"Excellent. Professor McGonagall. Please inform Miss Weasley that she is to be the other chaperone."

"Sir?" Draco wasn't sure if he should act delighted or annoyed. He tried for surprised. "Why Ginny, um, the Weasley girl?"

"Aren't you a couple? Professor Carrow told me he caught the two of you kissing in his classroom."

"But . . ." It would be a humiliation for Ginny. Everyone thought he was really Malcolm's brother. The obnoxious one. Technically. She would become a laughing stock.

Severus Snape was smiling. He would explain to the Carrows that Ginny Weasley was Harry Potter's girlfriend. Wherever he was hiding, the 'Chosen One' would surely hear that his one true love went on a date with his worst enemy. Even the Dark Lord would appreciate the humor.

"Draco, you don't have to be nice to her, but you should dance with her at least once. Perhaps the first dance? After that, you can express your true feelings for her."

McGonagall was appalled. She understood what that would do to Potter once he found out. Her look told the headmaster how much he disgusted her. But she still went to her house to deliver the news.

* * *

"You look radiant," Ginny said. "See what you can do if you make the effort, and it only took an hour and a half. All you have to do is promise me you'll have a wonderful time."

Becca smiled. She spun in place before the mirror. The sky blue robes made the plain color of her hair seem exciting. She looked like a princess. "Thanks Ginny." She turned around to her yearmates who helped her by contributing the robes, a pair of shoes, a necklace. "I owe all of you."

Everyone was complimenting her and demanding she tell then all about it once she got back when McGonagall entered the dorm room. "There you are, Miss Weasley. There has been a change of plans. You need to get ready at once."

"WHAT?"

"You and Draco Malfoy will be the new chaperones. I know how you truly feel about Mister Malfoy, but I assure you . . ."

"I don't have a thing to wear."

McGonagall was surprised at the fear in Ginny's voice. "In view of the person you're going with, I don't know why you would be worried."

"But it's Draco. If I go dressed in my own clothes, he'll hate me."

Silence filled the room. Rebecca Dutton was the first to speak. "It's true? You're really in love with Draco Malfoy?"

McGonagall stared at her. "I thought you loved Harry Potter?"

"I do." Ginny answered.

"And which of us did you answer with that statement?"

"Professor, I know it seems strange, but I've been through so much with Draco, and every time Harry does something stupid, Draco is always there to console me."

"THAT is going to become a serious problem later on," McGonagall said, "But for now, let's see what we can do for you in one hour."

* * *

"How do I look?" Jared asked as they waited by the Great Hall for the others to arrive.

Simon laughed. "Nervous. Why are you scared? I'm the one who has to take a date."

Draco, dressed in his finest, laughed. "In a couple of years, that won't seem so terrible. I promise."

"Yeah," Jared said, "but my date's waiting for me. And Neville Longbottom told me what to expect. We'll have to dance every dance. And we're supposed to be popular. People will be taking my picture. For NEWSPAPERS."

"Does someone need their picture taken?" Colin Creevey walked up. Unlike the others, he was casually dressed. And he had a badge pinned to his robes to show that he was part of the professional staff. He also had his camera and equipment with him.

Professor Snape watched with typical annoyance as everyone gradually assembled. Matthew Zeller appeared, walking slowly as though he were afraid he'd fall over. He nervously explained that he was the only one going who did not have a date. That left the headmaster waiting for the two Gryffindor girls.

Unlike the boys, the girls came with an entourage. At least twenty other girls from the various years were with them. Rebecca Dutton, beaming, walked up to Simon. Ginny was walking behind her, and Draco looked up. He did not know it but the look on his face was the same that Ron Weasley had upon seeing Hermione Granger at the Yule Ball. He walked up to her and held out his hand. The green robes against her red hair made her look stunning in his eyes. When she took his hand, he saw a silver ring engraved to look like a serpent. His heart melted.

"Will you marry me?" Draco said without jest.

"I will," Ginny replied. She saw the hint of disbelief in his eyes. "I promise."

Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes, as Professor Snape groaned. All the girls present were cheering. Draco Malfoy was kissing Ginny Weasley.

"She told me," Basil informed Charles and Edwin, "before I died. She leaned over my bed and said, 'I'm going to marry your brother'."

"I thought she loved Harry Potter?" Charles asked.

"Perhaps she did," Edwin pointed out. "But Harry Potter is not here. Draco Malfoy is. Basil, you should ask him if you can be best man."

Basil grinned. "Draco already asked me. To be honest, when he asked he didn't think it would ever happen."

Finally, the last person needed had arrived. Professor Flitwick smiled at everyone. He expressed his delight at the good fortune of everyone involved, giving a confused look at Ginny and Draco, who were holding hands. He passed along the portkey, a folding fan, and explained the instructions. Everyone must be holding the portkey. Then Draco Malfoy would say "Beaubatons". That would activate it and send everyone to France. When the festivities were over, they would repeat the process except now Draco would say "Hogwarts".

He then walked over to Jared and whispered to 'Malcolm' that if a certain young lady, who was older than she looked, were holding his hand, then she would end up at Hogwarts as well. He stepped back and watched as the seven students did as they were told and promptly disappeared.

"Those lucky children," he said as he walked off.

Professor Snape pulled out two vials from his robe. He offered one to Professor McGonagall, explaining that it was for headaches. Despite her feelings for the man, she was grateful for the potion.

* * *

Camilla Umbridge stood outside the main doors of the school, waiting for the expected guests. More than half the people expected had already arrived, and more were flying in or rolling up in their coaches even as she watched. Jean Paul arrived by her side, kissed her cheek, and nodded to the entrance. "I have found her," he told his fiancé.

Jean Paul's sister, Gabrielle Delacour, was walking out onto the promenade. She was trying to look happy because it was expected. She had agreed to play this ruse, but she still felt the pain of his loss. She looked out toward the fountain where the group would appear. There would be a boy who looked like Malcolm, who acted like Malcolm, but was a stranger playing a part. This night would be nothing but a lie.

"YOU DIDN'T?"

All three turned at the shout. Some forty feet away stood two familiar looking boys. They were arguing. Gabrielle began walking toward them. She stopped when she recognized one of them. That boy said, "yeah, it started early for me the last time, too". Then he looked up, and their eyes met.

* * *

There was a whirling noise and the Hogwarts party arrived at the designated fountain. They looked around to see no one waiting for them. Ginny pointed to a couple to one side of the Entrance to the Celebration Hall. They were suddenly running toward the group. When the reached the party, Camilla and Jean Paul stopped. They were looking at Jared and Simon.

"This may be an unusual question, but did the two of you just arrive by yourselves?"

"They're back?" Jared asked hopefully, then corrected himself. "We're back?"

A look from Simon said that no correction was necessary.

"Who's back?" Colin asked, and followed the pointed finger to the three young people. Two were doing nothing except staring at each other. One was obviously trying to talk to either of them without success. "That must be Nob," Draco guessed. Nob waved his hand in front of Malcolm's face to no effect, then noticed he was being watched. He turned to the crowd and shrugged.

Shortly thereafter, Camilla was shaking hands with a young man who said his name was Jared and that he was Malcolm's stunt double. Simon introduced himself as well. Colin excused himself as he had work to do but demanded a full explanation afterward. As the French students received their explanations, Matt Zeller also excused himself, claiming that he had work to do. He slowly walked away from the group and toward the entrance.

Jared and Simon then began to explain who they were and why they were there. To help matters along, as soon as Simon said, "And now you know everything," Nob walked up and asked, "Who are these guys?" Twenty minutes later, they were standing before Madam Maxime. When she asked, "And you are?" Simon replied, "about to repeat myself for the third time."

* * *

Finally, they spoke.

"I'm sorry, Gabrielle. I didn't think."

"I thought I had lost you."

"I could only think of you. And when I thought of you, I thought of here. And here I am."

Gabrielle smiled. "Where we were always happy."

"Always," Malcolm answered.

They edged closer together and leaned into each other to kiss. When they broke apart, Malcolm turned to his brother to apologize, and Gabrielle to hers. They realized they were alone. So they kissed again.

They stopped when they heard someone counting. "Vignt-quatre, Vignt-cinq, Vignt-six . . ."

"Jean Paul?"

"Je vous combien du temps vous pouvez tenir votre haleine"

[_He's timing us to see how long we can hold our breath._

"Everyone is inside," Jean Paul told them. "And did you know, little sister, that Malcolm is no longer an only child?"

Gabrielle smiled. "I have met his twin."

Jean Paul smiled. "Then you are in for a surprise. Malcolm is not a twin, he is a quadruplet."

Gabrielle looked at Malcolm and laughed at his surprised expression. She grabbed his hand. "Come, I want to see four of YOU standing together."

"And that covers everything," Jared said, just as the two walked up. Before he could be asked who he was, Simon snapped. "Suffer in ignorance, Malcolm."

"He must have been the one playing Nob." Malcolm explained to Gabrielle. He turned to the boy standing next to Nob. Jared shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know. I just got here, myself."

* * *

Dewey and Marcel were arguing. Anyone who did not speak Fluent English and French would not have understood the words, and even if they did they would little idea of what the subject of the conversation was. This was because Marcel knew enough English to greet someone in public, ask directions to the cafe/train/bathroom and to say goodbye. Dewey's French was twice as good as Marcel's English. He could also ask directions to the school, the police station and, thanks to Malcolm, the nearest adult bookstore. It was supposed to be the library, but Malcolm thought he would have some fun at his brother's expense. (On a side note, Dewey did have fun, until the Gendarme asked him for proof of age. Marcel managed to lie their way out of the situation.)

As the argument grew to a close, Marcel pulled some money from his pocket. He held out his hand and his schoolmates added their own money to the pile. He held out the coins. Dewey took the money and they shook hands. Dewey pocketed the coins as he walked to where Phillipa was standing. The sun was sinking low in the west and its light shone through the stained glass windows, showering the room in a vast array of colors. The pageant was about to begin. Phillipa asked how much. Dewey guessed it was at least four Galleons. Dewey's French suddenly improved. He also assured her that they didn't know she knew. Happily, the two watched as the King of the Old Year rode in on his white horse.

"VIVE LE ROI," the old woman called out as the sun set. The King had been reborn to rule over the new year. As the King and the old woman began to dance, other couples approached the open area and joined them.

Dewey turned to Phillipa. He made an exaggerated gesture as to say, "Would you like to dance?" Phillipa made an excellent 'surprised' expression, and even managed to blush slightly as she took Dewey's hand. They walked toward the dance floor, both thinking about how they would spend the money. Both were grinning from ear to ear as they stepped onto the dance floor.

A couple, walking behind them, suddenly let out a yelp as they fell. Dewey and Phillipa looked back. Having taken the dare, Marcel had decided to show him up and asked Diana, one of the beaters, to dance with him. They had been thrown back as they tried to step onto the dance floor. An elderly man, dancing with his wife said something in French that made Dewey gulp. "Only those whose love is true may dance the first dance." The man winked at Dewey as he and his wife went back to the dance. The laughter around Marcel was rising as more people realized what had happened, but he was staring at his sister in disbelief. So was Dewey. He didn't even realize that he and Phillipa had started dancing.

* * *

"VIVE LE ROI!"

"That's our cue," Malcolm said as he took Gabrielle's hand. People were already taking their picture. As they stepped onto the Dance floor, the King nodded in their direction, to welcome them back. As they began dancing, they heard Draco say, "I've always wanted to do this."

On the sidelines, Rebecca was standing there with three identical boys, except for the way they dressed. Also, one of the boys, Jared, had deliberately messed up his hair. He claimed he hated wearing it in that style. She smiled at Simon, who smiled back. She was upset that he did not take the hint. Even though she thought he was Malcolm's brother, she had still come to like him. Jared also smiled back, he knew what she wanted and wasn't interested. That was odd, because she knew both of them knew how to dance.

On a lark, she turned to Nob. "That looks like fun. Would you like to dance?"

"I, uh, don't know how," Nob explained.

"I'll lead," Rebecca told him.

"Really? But you know I'm, you know . . ."

"I read about it in the Daily Prophet."

"Okay."

They stepped toward the dance floor just as a couple near them fell down. An old man said something from the dance floor and everyone began to laugh. Nob hesitated. "Um, Becca, what does troth mean?"

"As in plaiting ones troth?"

"Exactly."

"It means you're engaged, like Draco and Ginny."

"Oh."

Nob nervously extended his hand toward the dance floor. He became more nervous as he felt no resistance. He shrugged his shoulders and took Becca's hand. Then he stepped onto the dance floor.

"What happened?" Becca asked as she found herself looking at the ceiling. "And why is everyone laughing at us?"

"We have to be engaged in order to dance. Although I think it's just for the first dance."

"Engaged? As in planning to get married? Is that why you asked me about 'troth'?" Rebecca Dutton asked as she sat up.

"Um, yeah." Nob had risen to his feet and was offering her a helping hand.

"AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME?" Rebecca was furious. "HOW COULD YOU THINK I WOULD WANT TO MARRY YOU?"

"I didn't," Nob admitted. "I thought there would be a wall, and when my hand went past . . . I thought maybe the spell knew our destiny."

Rebecca gave Nob a look he had never seen before. Then she grabbed his arm. "We make our own destiny, Nob." She gave him a smile he understood. Malcolm always smiled like that just before he did something stupid. "Let's try again."

"But that means?"

"Do you really want to dance?"

Nob understood. It wasn't if you were married, or if you were engaged. The spell couldn't tell that. You had to really want to dance this dance with that person. To dance THIS DANCE with THAT PERSON. He nodded his head, and they stepped onto the dance floor. Before they even started dancing, it seemed that every camera around them was flashing.


	14. The Feast of Samanois

**Chapter 14: The Feast of Samanois**

This being France, the entire conversation was in French.

"Well," the boy asked. The others were watching Matt carefully. Except for the boy at the door to the bathroom who was watching the hallway to make sure they weren't disturbed.

Matt smiled as he opened his robes. "The Weasley shop closed down after the Ministry fell, but I always do my shopping early. I didn't get everything, but I think all of you will be pleased." He held his robes open to show why he walked so slowly and heavily. "I only wish I had a carryall pouch instead of having to bring everything this way."

A half dozen Beauxbatons students converged on him. A minute later, the fireworks were distributed evenly so that no one was overly burdened.

In exchange, Matt received a pouch with more than enough Galleons to cover the cost. Once the Quidditch game was over, a new tradition would be added to Samanois.

The boy at the door gave the alarm. The girls hid in the stalls, trying to pretend they weren't there. The boys tried to act casual when the door opened.

"Ah, Matthew Zeller," Madame Maxime said as she looked in. "I need to talk to you, if you have finished."

"Yes, Headmistress," Matt said, and exited the boys bathroom.

As they walked down the corridor back to the main hall, Madame Maxime put a friendly hand on the boy's shoulder. "I hope you did not give them anything too dangerous. I would not like to ruin their fun."

"You know?"

The headmistress laughed lightly. "You came here last year as a salesman for the Weasleys. And this year, a dozen students, all of whom are not the best in their classes and all of whom were in the bathroom with you, asked that you be invited to return. I could have been blind and deaf and still have known why they asked." She stopped him before reentering the Grand Hall. "If this is to continue, you will only be allowed to return as one of the vendors. And if there are any problems, I will see that you never return. Do you understand?"

Matt's face lit up at the thought that he could return, not once more but every year.

* * *

After the dance ended, and the couples exited the dance floor, the question came up about what to do. Dewey pointed out that the Quidditch match officially began in half an hour. That decided things for Jared and Simon. Both had heard about the sport, and witnessed a few practice sessions, but they had never watched a game, least of all a night game.

Nob and Rebecca also opted to watch the match. Draco and Ginny followed their lead. Malcolm, never a big fan, asked Gabrielle what she wanted to do. She admitted that the game sounded exciting, but she also wanted to listen to music. Could they do both? Malcolm was dragged along, quite willingly, to one of the upper halls. The one where a folk group called the Traveling People were playing. They quickly grabbed a table on the balcony. They could listen to the music as they watched the game from above.

Malcolm heard his name and looked up. A camera flashed. Colin was there.

"Another one?" Colin asked, as the sound of a dulcimer was heard in the background. "And look like you're really enjoying yourselves."

To accommodate Colin, they smiled and applauded along with everyone else. The band played a song called "Greensleeves" which they sang first in French, then in English. As they went into their second song, an instrumental, everyone turned to look over the balcony. Fourteen figures had suddenly appeared, the two Quidditch teams. Dewey and his teammates were all glowing Lime Green. The opposing team, which appeared to be a group of older students, shown bright Blue. Suddenly, the hoops lit up, a pale White, as did the Quaffle. The two bludgers, shining like small red suns, shot out of their boxes and into play. The Quaffle was thrown and the match began. Every few seconds, a Golden streak would appear. It was the Snitch. It would shine for one second out of every five.

A boy in the blue robes of Beauxbatons came by with drinks, served them, then stood there, watching the match below. When Jean Paul asked, the boy said his name was Devon, and that Colin said he could sit with them if he brought the drinks, and asked politely.

Jean Paul provided the commentary as the match progressed. All the members of the blue team were the regular team players of the school teams. Malcolm said it was like an all-star team. Jean Paul nodded. Had they played each other in the regular competition, Dewey's team might have been beaten, but in this match, they were favored to win. The blue team had more experience but they had never played at night. The green team had played two night games already, and won both.

Malcolm was enthralled. Unlike a regular game, the glowing players left trails behind them as they flew. For the first time he could see that they weren't flying around randomly. There were specific patterns that each team would fly. After being scored against, the blue team would fly the Quaffle back in a rotating line: The chaser with the Quaffle would fly mostly in a straight line while the other two would circle him from above to below and back again. They would break this formation depending on how the blue team responded.

The green team had a more radical approach. The chaser with the Quaffle would fly forward but also upward. One chaser would be underneath, swinging back and forth. The third, depending on previous successes, would swing to one side or the other, either higher or lower. This had the advantage of permitting a forward pass should an opening occur, but it also left the chaser in possession with only one option to pass to if blocked.

In a night game, the green team's strategy gave them a clear advantage. After the first hour, they had a fifty point lead.

Devon shouted, along with a fair number of people below. The green seeker, Dewey, was only a broomlength away when the snitch appeared. As they watched him suddenly dive and twist, everyone knew he was close enough to follow. The blue seeker tried to close the distance, but had chosen the wrong direction to fly after the snitch's previous appearance. The Snitch glowed again only inches from Dewey's hand. As its light faded, it suddenly glowed again. Dewey's team was still undefeated.

Everyone applauded as Dewey made a victory lap. Fireworks began to explode behind the stands away from the building. Brilliant streaks of light rose into the air, exploding in bursts of color in the shape of snitches and brooms and, for some inexplicable reason, a duck. The crowd was cheering all the more. One streaking firework turned suddenly and increased speed. As Dewey finished his victory lap, the firework hit his broom and exploded. The concussion was so great that Malcolm felt it from where he was sitting on the other side of the pitch.

The band had stopped. Silence filled not only the pitch but every balcony and hall on that side of the Grand Pavillion. Lights appeared, making the entire outdoor area as bright as daylight. But Dewey was gone. The only evidence visible were small embers of what had been the broom.

* * *

Matthew Zeller was watching the match from an excellent vantage point. The Teachers Loge, courtesy of the Headmistress. Because he was the shortest person there, he sat in the front and had an excellent view. Monsieur Fantane, the Charms Professor, who had cast the spells to light up the players, asked him briefly about Professor Flitwick and whether the rumors were true. Matt was honest and said the worse they were the more likely they were the truth. As though to compensate for asking for ill news, the Professor used the lulls in the action to entertain the boy with stories about the previous matches and the players involved. Matt was having a wonderful time.

The game ended, and the fireworks began. A giant snitch appeared from an exploding burst, zooming briefly before bursting into a fountain of color. All the while, starbursts were exploding and whirling wheels of sparks were flying all over the place. Two brooms appeared from a paired burst, rushed around each other, then began to sparkle and crackle before they burst. They were followed by another snitch. Then came a golden streak that shot higher into the air than the others. It exploded in a golden flash and formed the image of a duck. Matt's jaw dropped in surprise but the crowd loved it and roared loudly. Before it completely faded, another firework shot up.

"What is it?" Professor Fantane asked. When he noticed Matt's eager expression turn to confusion he leaned forward to ask his question.

"There were only four . . ." Matt said. That was as far as he got. The extra firework had exploded upon making contact with Dewey's broom.

* * *

Malcolm, age fifteen, was already gone. Covered in his invisibility cloak, the switch had been so easy. No one was paying attention as he switched the two fireworks for two of his own. No one would ever accuse him of not having a sense of humor.

[_Goodbye, dear brother. You were a big enough pain in one world. You won't be any trouble to me in this one._

Having finished his task, he made his way to where he had hidden his broom. Carefully, he flew away from the school until he was sure he was safe. He landed near an old cottage he had chosen earlier. Putting his belongings into the storage shed, he made his way inside.

The occupants of the cottage, an old couple, were very friendly. They were happy to have their American grandson visit them for a while. And when he left they would remember that they had no relatives in America, but they would then have forgotten about him.

Safe in his room, Malcolm mulled over the next part of his plan. He looked at the book he had, the book of prophecy. "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." Speed Reading was an excellent skill. He had time to steal the wand, but he would have to wait for his chance to kill the real Draco Malfoy who was still safely ensconced in his manor. Then there was the matter of the Sword of Gryffindor. With that, he could destroy the horocruxes himself. He even had a special way of getting into Gringotts. The matter settled, as far as he was concerned, Malcolm went to sleep, dreaming of what would happen when he went to the Forest of Dean. He would gain the sword for himself and eliminate another potential enemy at the same time.

[_Dewey and Draco, Harry and Tom. Three to go because one is gone._

* * *

It was a quiet dinner.

At the midnight feast, the cheerfulness of previous years was gone. Malcolm sat glumly at his table, barely touching his food. As with last year, they were sitting with the Quidditch team, but this time there was an empty chair. Phillipa, directly across the table, was crying, as were the other two girls on the team. Marcel tried to console his sister but everything he said seemed to make it worse.

Simon looked at Jared. "What do you think we should do?"

Jared shook his head. He looked over at Malcolm and Nob. And he smiled at a thought.

"Simon," he said loudly, "don't you think it was strange that there was no trace of a body?"

Simon gave Jared a look that said I knew you could do it. "I would guess that means there wasn't a body. Dewey's family has a habit of disappearing."

Marcel, grabbing at any shred of hope, told his sister, "You see, he apparated. When he comes back, he will make you feel foolish for all those tears."

"You cannot apparate on school grounds," Phillipa said angrily. "Not 'ere. Not at 'ogwarts."

[_Oh, my God. I know what those guys are talking about. And they said that Dewey knows how._

"I can," Malcolm said, coolly. He smiled as Philippa looked up. "I showed Dewey how it's done."

[_It's got to be true. There were ashes from the broom, but only the broom._

"He iz safe?" Phillippa asked.

"He was in a hurry," Malcolm admitted. "And it may take him a while to get back."

"He did it once before, just before school ended last year," Matt admitted. "He ended up getting a part in a muggle movie and didn't come back for two months."

"Dewey? No?" Marcel told him. "Zat would be a lie."

[_The more I think about it, the more I'm sure it's true. After all, there is NO body._

"Yeah," Malcolm said, "and I can't turn into an owl."

Nob smiled. "I say he'll be back tomorrow morning."

"At least a week," Malcolm replied. "He'll lie low to see what happens."

Nob shook his head. "He'll go for help, and try to get back before the culprits can hide."

"Ha, you're wrong. Dewey doesn't have any friends."

[_Okay, six French kids are about to beat the snot out of me._

"You know, that don't know he's here. They'd of heard by now, and he'd be back already."

"Nice recovery," Gabrielle whispered.

"Bet?" Nob suggested.

"You're on," Malcolm replied.

[_If it turns out that Dewey IS dead, I'm going to kill him. And I know the right people. That's not an idle threat._

Both brothers smiled as they stood up on their chairs. They jumped up and transformed into owls, and flew above the crowd. It was Malcolm who decided to start spreading the rumor by flying to Colin. Nob went for the glory and flew to Hagrid and the Headmistress. He transformed between them, excusing himself.

"Godfather," he began formally, "My brother and I were curious how much trouble Dewey is going to get into."

"Trouble?" Hagrid spoke the words but everyone was listening.

"Yeah, for apparating on school grounds."

"Ye can' . . . Din't you take an Oath not to turn into an owl."

"Did I?"

"An oath, 'agrid?" Madame Maxime asked.

"Yeah. An' it was a wizard's oath. If he breaks that it means . . . Ye turned into an owl anyway? Yer oath would stop you."

"I guess it would," Nob admitted. "Am I going to get into trouble?"

Inwardly, Nob was smiling. The stories were already spreading. While Hagrid and Maxime were questioning Nob, the other teachers were passing on what they heard. The servers who overheard passed the news to their colleagues, who in turn tried to be the first to tell someone else. The vendors, thanks to Malcolm, were also spreading the stories, in part because Colin also mentioned the Wizard's Oath. And Nob, assured that neither he nor his brothers were in trouble, flew back to his table.

Rebecca smiled at him as Nob sat back down. "That was a good thing you did," she whispered, "getting everyone to believe that."

"It could be true," Nob told her.

"At least it gives us hope."

* * *

"He's coming around," the doctor said.

Dewey slowly opened his eyes. The two blurry figures came into focus. The white hair of Doctor Watson kneeling over him, and the calm figure of Sherlock Holmes puffing away on his pipe.

"Good of you to take my advice, young man," Holmes said to the prostrate boy. "An escape plan is always helpful. Now, if you could explain why you appeared while flying through the air and glowing a bright green, I would appreciate this."

"I was flying my broom."

"Then be thankful you struck the overly cushioned settee that my guests are so fond of. And that the doctor had been gracious enough to pay me a visit."

Doctor Watson smiled. "A good doctor always brings his bag with him. And I am an excellent doctor, if I may be permitted to brag. Holmes, I think a small sherry would do the lad a world of good."

As Dewey was helped up and placed in the doctor's chair, Holmes handed him the glass of sherry. He drank sparingly. The alcohol had its effect and dulled the pain so that it was bearable. Holmes sat down next to him.

"Once you feel up to it, young man, explain everything in as much detail as possible." He looked up at Watson. "I think, my good doctor, we've have taken on a new case. I was beginning to get bored, anyway."

Dewey explained about the Cotillion and the Quidditch match, and how it had bloomed in only three years from a group of students having fun into a major feature of the festivities. He described the incident of the firework as best he could, admitting that he was not concentrating at the time. Luck and preparedness both played a part in his escape.

He also told of the previous attempt on his life and about the older Malcolm. As a result, he also had to explain the circumstances surrounding the others who had also come to the Cotillion. The night was well away before he finished, and Dewey was led to the guest bedroom, Watson's old room, to sleep away the rest of his injuries.

Watson excused himself. He would return home and let his wife know that he would be away for a while, that he would let her know how long he would be gone once he had some idea. They agreed to meet again at noon the next day.

* * *

Malcolm and Nob followed their escorts. With them were Jared and Simon. Matt had been taken elsewhere, and Draco (and Ginny) never appeared after the match. Rebecca Dutton had also been sent elsewhere, although she was accompanied by Gabrielle.

It was obvious to everyone that, even though the feast had ended, they were not going to leave. They entered a room with four beds and a private bath. Nob looked around.

"You know, this is strange."

Malcolm snorted. "You mean, four of us in the same room?"

[_It's funny, but it's not strange._

"Yeah. They showed up with the group. We showed up by ourselves. And no one questioned it. That is strange."

"That's Malcolm," Jared answered. "Someone asked how I got in without an invitation. I said I told them I was Malcolm. And he didn't ask any more questions, like why they didn't throw me out once they found out."

Nob looked surprised. "Malcolm has that effect on people?" Malcolm, Jared and Simon all nodded their heads. "Cool."

"Where's Draco?" Simon decided to ask.

"With Ginny," Malcolm answered. "Try looking in the broom closet."

"Do they know what happened? Should we try to find them?"

"It's late," Jared said, "and we're all tired."

The effect of his words were lost on the others because of his smile. Nob did agree with him but he was looking at Malcolm who already had the door open and was looking to see if there were guards about. Four eleven year olds decided to sneak out for the obvious reason. It could be fun. And all of them separately had decided that if they were caught they would say that they were one of the others.

* * *

"Do you believe the rumors?" Ginny Weasley asked as she rested her head against Draco's shoulder.

Draco, supported by the tree he was leaning against, gently brushed her hair out of her eyes. His own eyes flickered to the horizon to see if there were any signs of dawn. "You know about Malcolm. I think they're right. Dewey could be at Beauxbatons right now but in a different world."

Ginny laughed. "Maybe he'll be in another movie. How long until dawn?"

"Not long. You can just see, below that line of trees across the field. The sky is beginning to brighten." Draco looked up as something flew overhead. "Dang."

[_He got that word from staying at our house._

Before Ginny could ask, there was the sound of laughter. She looked up at Draco, half smile half frown on her face. "They found us. All four of them." A sigh. "It was too good to be true."

She started to get up but Draco held her in place. By kissing her cheek, he let her know that the 'children' would have to force them to move. He knew his Malcolms and he was right. The four came out of the woods behind them and, because they received no reaction except a calm hello, they did nothing.

"I don't believe you went so far that you left the school grounds," Malcolm said.

"Take a seat," Draco suggested. "We're waiting for sunrise."

"Why?" Nob asked.

"It's so romantic," Simon said in a high voice, and three boys laughed.

[_I should have brought Gabrielle._

A loud popping noise was suddenly heard.

[_Then again, maybe not._

Red eyes glared at the group from a pale serpentine face. A wand waived menacingly in a skeletal hand. "He is here. I demand to know where he is." He pointed at Jared. "ANSWER ME!"

"Who?"

"The faux Malcolm."

[_Obviously, I wasn't told everything._

"I don't know," Jared admitted. "I never saw him."

Voldemort sneered. "Severus told me of your most recently acquired skill, Malcolm. I know he cannot hide from you. But why should I believe you?"

Jared paused. But not for the reason the dark lord thought. He had asked the question too many times: why did everyone automatically assume he was Malcolm. "Dewey is my brother, Sir."

"Yet you hesitate," Voldemort hissed. "Perhaps brotherly love does not run strong in your veins. The one who pretends to be you has no such love. I wonder how closely he resembles the one he tries to impersonate." He stepped toward the group, smirking as Draco and Ginny stood up to face him. "And this fills my heart with joy, to see a Weasley turn her heart toward a pure wizard. Or do you know? Could it be that you like to call Malcolm your brother because of feelings for his brother?" He eyed the boy who was holding her protectively. "Is that true, Reese?"

"I'm Draco."

Ginny smiled. He was remembering his role. Her smile faded when the dark lord reached into his robes. He pulled out a silver orb about the size of a snitch. He walked up, grabbed Draco's free hand and placed the orb in his palm. He stepped back far enough so he could see all six young people. "Reese, tell me your name?"

A very nervous voice spoke the words, "I a-am Draco Malfoy."

Voldemort paused. "Repeat yourself."

"I am Draco Malfoy."

"Tell me about Draco Malfoy."

Draco licked his lips. "I'm a seventh year in Slytherin. I'm a pureblood. I, um, honestly like Ginny Weasley . . . as a person."

"Enough drivel." Voldemort was angry but his anger was not focused, making him that much more dangerous. He could lash out suddenly in any direction, just because he felt like it. "Draco, since you insist on calling yourself by that name. Tell me a deliberate lie. Tell me something that is obviously untrue."

[_IT'S A LIE DETECTOR!_

Malcolm mouthed to his brother and the others what he had discovered, just in case. He could not warn Draco but it was clear that his cousin had already figured it out on his own. He cringed when he heard Draco's next words.

"I despise you to the very core of my soul . . . Master."

Voldemort looked amused. He waved Draco forward. He plucked the orb and waved the teenager away. He turned to Jared and signaled with his hand that the boy should approach. He noticed that one of the other boys held out his arm as though to stop the boy he summoned, but was told, "Simon, no." He smiled. He now knew who the Malcolm lookalikes were, and that one was one of the mudblood boys.

He smiled at Jared and handed him the orb.

"Now, Malcolm . . ."

Jared held the hand out that was holding the orb. "I . . . am . . . not . . . Malcolm."

"How clever of you to figure out what my little toy is. As you can see, it is not working properly. Tell me something that is obviously true."

Jared could see the bright sky to the east. "It is almost sunrise."

Voldemort cast a quick glance backward. He turned back with a smile on his face. "A good choice. An indisputable fact. But for the record, please tell me an equally obvious lie."

Jared shrugged. "I'm not a wizard. My brother isn't a wizard either. I've never met you before . . ."

"That last was excellent, Malcolm. An obvious lie, as I asked. To say we've never met after all the times we have spoken together. But," his eyes turned to Simon, "this device doesn't appear to work on wizards. Perhaps it might work on Muggles. Malcolm, hand him the orb."

Jared gave Simon the orb with a shaky hand. The Dark Lord would now be talking to someone and addressing him by his right name. Simon took the orb with confidence, and even gave his brother a wink. He turned to the pale figure to find out what would be demanded of him.

"I know your name. You informed my servant that you are known as Simon Grace. Is that true?"

"Yes," Simon said clearly.

"And now you will deliberately lie."

"My name is not Simon Grace."

Voldemort shrugged. He waved his wand and the orb flew from Simon's hand into his own. "I will have to punish Nott for his failure to cast a spell strong enough to survive longer than a month. But that is the least of my problems. Malcolm, you have disappointed me. Associating with muggles simply because of a resemblance? You will have to be punished and your playmates destroyed. If you do not resist, I promise to excuse your brother because of his actual age . . . until you cross me again. And then I will ensure that he receives twice the punishment that I give you." He gestured toward Simon and Nob. "Your first duty is to see that they don't escape, unless you wish you and your brother to die in their place."

In an act of arrogance, he dismissed Jared and turned to Draco and Ginny. "Miss Weasley, I appreciate the appearance of what you are doing, but the truth is too well known. If you swear a Wizard's Oath of loyalty to me, here and now, I will let you go. Otherwise, I will use you as an example." He accepted Ginny's silence for what it was. "An example, then. After I start, I will decide if I should let you live."

Ginny spat at him, to receive a hard slap in return. A red welt appeared on her cheek from where he struck her with his wand. Voldemort turned to the young blond man.

"Draco," he said mockingly, as he pointed his wand at Ginny Weasley. "I should do something to you for those words you said about me, even though you were lying. Except to watch your 'girlfriend' die, you will receive no punishment." He glared at Draco as the tip of his wand began to glow green. "Be thankful I am a merciful man."


	15. Investigation

**Chapter 15: Investigation**

"And then we ran like hell before he recovered from that lie detector thing," Malcolm explained.

[_Under normal circumstances, that line would've gotten a big laugh._

"Ze Dark Lord waz 'ere?" Madame Maxime asked in disbelief. The new year was not beginning on a positive note. She stood up from her desk and walked over to the windows to look outside, as she pondered what to do. Hagrid smiled at Malcolm. The Beauxbatons faculty was talking amongst themselves, except for one of the new teachers. He stood up and walked over to Malcolm.

"You are in big trouble," Professor Nott told him. "My brother, Nicholas, and I may be able to help but we can't do very much."

[_This is great. I didn't even know he had a twin. That means Nob has a village idiot he can play with, too._

Because Malcolm was on the platform in front of the headmistress's desk, he could look the man in the eye. "Aren't you one of the bad guys?"

"When it was just me but, now that I can literally talk to myself, I've had a change of heart. I can function a lot better if I don't try to be evil." He shrugged. "You've already proven to me that I'm not much good at it."

"And you want to help me?"

"Her." He pointed to Ginny. He began to whisper. "Convince the Dark Lord that she didn't know that Draco was really your brother." He winked, and went back to the assembled Professors.

"'AGRID!" Madame Maxime suddenly shouted. "C'EST MANIFIQUE!"

Everyone rushed forward to the windows which took up one wall of the expansive office. Malcolm cheated and flew to the windows. They looked out to where the headmistress was pointing. It was the quidditch pitch. In the middle of the field, walking toward the near exit, were two men and a boy, a boy wearing a quidditch uniform.

[_Dang. I lost my bet._

* * *

"Breathtaking," Doctor Watson said as he looked around. 

Holmes smiled. "For once, Watson, I could accuse you of making an understatement."

Dewey was grinning. "It gets better. This place is beautiful. They based Versailles on this school."

"I will take your word for it, young man, but for all the beauty, there is someone who does not care for it. Phillipa has fallen asleep waiting for you."

Dewey looked to where Holmes was pointing. At the base of one of the hoops sat the girl, dressed in her school robes. As he walked forward, the two men followed.

"Holmes. I can understand how you knew it was his girlfriend. That would be expected. But how did you know she was waiting for him to return? I would have assumed she was mourning him."

"My dear Doctor. It is obvious. Dewey described the scene clearly. He was by the far hoops when the incident with the firework occurred. Had the girl been mourning him, she would have been there. Instead, she is by the near hoops, and by near I mean closest to the exit gate from the field. She is waiting for him. And that tells us that she knows or suspects more about Dewey than he realizes."

By this time, Dewey was kneeling by the sleeping girl. "Phillipa? Are you okay?"

The girl moaned in her sleep then stretched her arms as she woke up. "Bonjour, Dewey." She started. "Dewey?"

Dewey went over backwards as Phillipa jumped on him, showering his face in kisses. "Becca waz right."

"Phillipa, please. I know we love each other."

The girl laughed. "No, we do not. Becca told me. It was zee money. We do not being marriage."

Watson was grinning. "She has an excellent command of the English language, Holmes."

"And of American gentlemen," Holmes added, as she forced Dewey to admit it was great that they did not love each other. She then stood up, helped Dewey to his feet and demanded to be introduced to his friends.

* * *

By the time, they entered the school, a crowd was already gathering. Madame Maxime was not the only one to notice. Half the students in the School were already gathering in the halls to greet the returning boy. In the first minutes, Dewey was stopped a half dozen times to be hugged by students he knew and didn't know. Phillipa led the way, never letting go of Dewey's hand, as they walked up several flights of stairs. They paused when they reached an ornate pair of doors. Phillipa knocked and announced herself, and the two doors swung open to reveal the headmistress's office. 

That the walls would be lined with bookcases was no surprise. And, like Hogwarts, portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses hung on the walls above them. The far wall was a series of windows, like the Grand Hall but with clear glass. And in the center of the room stood a platform. Steps led from the platform to the floor and then down again to where the floor for the second half of the room dropped some three feet. It was obvious that the desk was not on the platform but next to it. The arrangement permitted visitors to sit in front of the desk and talk to the headmistress as though she were of normal height.

Dewey entered the room to a round of applause. Everyone, except Malcolm, was cheering. As Dewey passed, Nob explained that it was because he lost the bet. Then Nob looked up at the gentlemen behind Dewey and realized he had given the wrong reason. Dewey noticed them staring.

"It's not him," Dewey explained. "And just so you know, he turned out to be a Death Eater."

[_What?_

"THAT'S A LIE," Nob shouted.

"He was and he is," Dewey insisted.

Madame Maxime was polite but firm. There were many things going on that she did not understand and everything would be explained. First, there should be introductions.

Dewey nodded and managed to smile. He introduced Holmes and Watson. Madame Maxime curtsied when the two men bowed politely. She then introduced everyone in the room, starting with the assembled staff. Hagrid was introduced as Professor Hagrid, the escort for the students from Hogwarts. She began to introduce the students and paused when she had four boys left to introduce.

"Please, Madame," Holmes said, "I can identify them for you readily enough. These two are obviously Malcolm, the sullen one, and Nob, the one who likes to shout. Which means that the two boys behind them are, the one with the messy hair has to be Jared, and," he smiled at the last boy, "that means you must be Simon."

"That was pretty good," Simon admitted.

"Dewey was accurate when he gave me all of the details. Knowing what to expect from each of you, identification was not a problem."

"Are you really THE Sherlock Holmes?"

Holmes nodded. He turned to the headmistress. "Madame, Dewey has engaged my services to determine exactly what happened here last night. I would like your permission to question all the principles involved as well as examine the sight of the 'incident' more closely." He nodded toward the staff. "I would also suggest that anyone not directly involved be asked to leave. The less they know, the less they can reveal by accident. I can only promise them a full explanation when my investigation is finished."

"Monsieur Holmes, zis is a French school. Ze inveztgator should be French."

"If he can tell the difference between four identical boys, I will yield in my request."

Madame Maxime smiled, "Bon mot."

The staff vacated the office in good order. They all agreed it was too much to ask for to be privy to every detail. Hagrid asked to stay, as Hogwarts' representative, but was denied. Madame Maxime admitted that it would be best if as few people were witness to the events. She also admitted that Professor Snape, whom she detested, had insisted that Hagrid not take part. The giant left in a good mood when Nob assured him, "I'll tell you everything."

"Which student do you wish to interview first?" Madame Maxime asked.

"Why, you, Madame. To find out how much you know about events, and to have an adult's perspective. Dewey was very good about going into detail, but he is thirteen."

The students were led to an adjoining chamber to wait until they were called, Dewey and Phillipa going with them. They settled themselves down for a long wait.

"We need to talk," Dewey said. "We need to clear a few things up."

"Like a dead man being a Death Eater?" Malcolm asked.

Ginny stood up. "Why don't we girls go find someplace else, while all of you talk?"

Phillipa gave a doleful look as she stood up, but Rebecca Dutton remained seated. "I'm not leaving. I want to know everything that's been going on." She looked at the French girl. "And I bet I'm not the only one."

Malcolm smiled. "Dewey, she's your girlfriend. Tell her to leave."

[_I love watching his face turn red. And to tell the truth. I don't care who knows what anymore._

"Either that or tell her to sit down." Malcolm gave him a look that belied his years. "And no more kissing, either."

[_Yes, I do believe we have achieved Burgundy!_

Draco settled the matter by grabbing Ginny's hand and pulling her back down onto the couch where they were sitting. Phillipa sat back down next to Dewey on the couch across from Draco. She looked at Malcolm, sitting next to Ginny, smiled at him, then kissed Dewey on the cheek.

Simon looked at Malcolm. "I'd like to know if David Winter is dead or a Death Eater. He escorted us to Kings Cross Station, and that was after the attack AND after you two disappeared."

"Here's the deal. I'll explain how I know David Winter is dead if you explain why they think I attacked Dewey."

"We thought it was the future you," Rebecca Dutton said. "You broke into Ollivander's and gave me and Anthony our wands."

Jared took over. "Then I saw you sneak into the Great Hall and poison Dewey's drink. You had an invisibility cloak."

"You mean you can . . ."

[_That's useful. I wonder how you can tell the person you're looking at is invisible?_

Dewey smiled. "We figured it out that it wasn't you from the future. Jared and Simon are from another dimension. So is that Malcolm."

"Then he brought his own David Winter with him," Nob stated.

[_That would explain it. And I know what Nob missed._

Malcolm smiled. "That David didn't like his Malcolm and jumped ship."

Jared nodded. "And that's why Malcolm tried to kill him." He looked up in surprise. "How did you know about that?"

The door opened. Sherlock Holmes was standing there. He entered with Watson and Madame Maxime.

"He didn't, Jared. Malcolm simply put the facts together. David Winter helped Dewey. Malcolm tried to kill him. Twice."

"You listened in?"

Holmes nodded. "It was the easiest way to find out the key facts as quickly as possible. It also eliminates the number of people I need to talk to. And time seems to be the most important factor. Mister Malfoy, I only need to ask you two questions before I dismiss you. First, why did you disappear after the attack?"

Draco was surprised. "Ginny was distraught. I wanted to . . ."

"And you weren't?"

"I had Ginny to worry about," Draco said defensively. "How did you know about that? You didn't have enough time to talk to the headmistress if you were listening to us."

"Observation. You and Ginny Weasley have grass stains on your shoes, as do the four boys. That means that you were in a field as the grass is not the type that is used on the pitch. Nor on the grounds from what I have seen so far. Also, Miss Weasleys had remnants of grass on the lower part of her robes, as did you, except you also had some debris on your back. The logical conclusion is that you both were sitting down, you with your back to a tree, and she leaning against you, and that the two of you had been sitting there for some time. The only guess work is that the boys went looking for you simply for the fun of it. My second question is what did you find that made all of you run back here so quickly?"

Draco repeated the events on the edge of the field. He also made mention of a hex on Voldemort's name and what it would do if they were in England. Holmes nodded thoughtfully. He asked some questions for clarification and then thanked Draco. He turned to Phillipa, next.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Oui," she said with an embarrassed smile.

"And you do know to be discreet?"

After she nodded, Holmes turned his attention to Simon. "You have a quick mind. Please tell me. Why did you lie about your name when you first introduced yourself?"

Ginny laughed. "That's right. I almost forgot." She turned to Holmes. "They explained it to me when I was staying with them."

"It was my Mom's idea," Simon told them. "When we sent that manuscript to those writers, she told them to change our names. And when we knew we were going to change worlds, she told us to introduce ourselves that way, just in case."

Nob laughed. "So you lied to the rest of us when you said your last name was Grace."

Holmes smiled as well. There were few clues to work on, but the background information he was getting was, for lack of a better word, stimulating. He turned to Rebecca Dutton next and had her repeat everything she remembered of that day at Ollivander's. When she was finished, he thanked her, saying they must all be exhausted and should try to get some sleep. He also suggested that Malcolm and Nob join him for a private conversation after dinner.

"Madame, my business here is done. If you have any questions you want to ask, I will answer them now, or later if you also wish to rest. I will need to talk to a few of your students as well."

Madame Maxime was too curious to rest. After everyone had been dismissed, with Phillipa given the task of finding them beds, she stayed up for two hours more asking her own questions. Surprise at what those boys could do settled down quickly enough, as they discussed the implications of what happened.

As Holmes and Watson returned to the pitch to examine the area where the fireworks were lit, the students involved were rounded up. By the time Holmes had completed his search, fifteen of France's future witches and wizards were waiting on the pitch to be interviewed.

* * *

Draco slept on a couch in one of the common rooms. He was the most comfortable. Malcolm had fallen asleep in a chair while he was waiting; once everyone was satisfied he would not fall over, they left him there. Nob was on the hearth rug by the fireplace. Jared and Simon were in another common room. Ginny and Rebecca were somewhere else completely. 

The one person missing had already slept, as he had nothing else to do. Matthew Zeller was now pacing his room. He had been assured that he would never return to Beauxbatons, even if he were cleared of any involvement. Nor did he care to ever come back. All he wanted to do was leave. Then there was a knock at the door.

"It's locked," he called out.

The door opened. David Winter was standing there, except it obviously wasn't.

"Master Zeller?" the man said in an impeccable English accent. "My name is Holmes. I'm in charge of the investigation. I need to ask you a few questions about the fireworks you provided." He sat down in a chair by the corner table and motioned for Matt to take the other one. Matt was not helped by the fact that Madame Maxime and a strange man were also in the room, standing and watching him.

"Pay them no mind," Holmes assured the boy.

"Easy for you to say. Did my father send you?"

"Your father knows nothing of this. Except for what he has read in the papers, I should imagine. And I have talked with the boys involved in setting off the fireworks. What I need to know from you is your inventory. What you brought, what each item looked like and what each item was expected to do."

Matt nodded. It seemed a simple enough request. "There were eight Flying Wheezies, Four Weasley Thunderstorms, Six Fountain Figures . . ."

Holmes smiled. "Fountain Figures? I would assume that those would be the two snitches, the brooms, the duck, our unexpected device and . . ." The smile wavered as he saw the boy frown. "Or do the brooms count as two? Then the only question I need to ask is what firework did the device replace?"

Matt was amazed. The man had figured out about the brooms just by looking at him. He must be a mind . . .

"I'm not reading your mind, young man. You simply have a very expressive face, especially when you are under duress."

"It was two snitches and two pairs of brooms," Matt answered. "Should I tell you how they work?"

Holmes stood up. "There is no need. I have all the evidence. And it was rather polite of our attempted murderer to give Dewey a warning before he attacked."

Matt looked at Holmes with curiosity. "A warning?"

* * *

Malcolm and Nob, still tired from their late night, had enough energy left after dinner to walk out of the Grand Hall onto the promenade. Holmes was there, examining the garden. 

"When you left with Erik, where did you end up?"

[_Cool. He didn't even turn around._

"This weird restaurant. It was attached to an inn."

Holmes turned around. "It is curious, human behavior. A man who is away for months is eager for news. It is the man who is away for a week who is annoyed to discover what he missed. Do you understand my point?"

"There's a door," Nob told him. "It takes you to any place AND to any time."

"And where is this inn?"

"Uh, nowhere."

Holmes stomped his foot in irritation. "And that is what I deserve for being an arrogant fool. To have the obvious answer handed to me by a boy of eleven."

"Uh, I'm really seven. I had this accident . . ."

"Yes, yes," Holmes said with mock cruelty. "Rub salt into the open wound of my ego so that it will never heal."

"Huh?"

[_I think that guy just realized that Nob really is seven._

"Mister," Malcolm offered, "why is it important to know where that restaurant is?"

Holmes feigned surprise. "You don't know? That must be because you were away for so short a time. Your brother was trying to figure out where you had gone, but the answers kept cancelling each other out."

"He can't do that, anyway. He needs at least three positions. We only have two." Malcolm paused. "Me and Nob have two. How many does Dewey have?"

"Five. And before you ask, he had the original two. In trying to find everyone else from your ill-fated romp, he erred in his calculations and ended up in my flat. That gave him his third. He found Miss Weasley with the two boys who acted as your replacements. That made four. As for number five, that was obtained by examining the source traces of another traveler."

Malcolm nodded in understanding. The fifth world was the world where Dewey's assailant came from. He looked up at Holmes. "There's something you didn't tell me."

Holmes smiled. The boy was thinking again. "All worlds do not progress at the same rate of time. The world that Jared and Simon come from was on par with ours when we entered but, when they went to return a week later, nearly four centuries had passed. Either that of there is something in error about the calculations. That is why we need you, Malcolm. As the discoverer, you understand the spell. Dewey can repeat it, but he can't quite grasp it. And I only know what I have been told. I am an analyst, not a theorist."

[_This is great. He just told me I'm going to spend a lot of time on this project! Uh, wait. He just told me I'm going to be doing a lot of work because of this project. Dang._

"You said earlier that time was important. Why the hurry?" Malcolm asked.

Holmes walked up to Malcolm and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. He put his other hand on Nob's shoulder and made sure both of them were looking at him. "The Dark Lord intended to either kill your duplicates or kill you. If they cannot be returned to their own world in a very short time, they will die. Once they are gone, you can redeem yourself by taking credit for their disappearance. That option exists, however, for only a few hours."

"Huh?" As Malcolm thought about the problem, Nob smirked. Malcolm looked up. "What? Do you know how to get back there?"

[_He does. And the jerk didn't say anything._

"Maybe. You cast that spell and I was dragged along. So, if you cast the spell while holding onto Jared, and I'm holding on to Simon . . ."

[_He did know. Dang. I like being the one who figures things out._

"I don't know," Malcolm said hesitantly.

"No one knows," Holmes informed him. "We are guessing at this point. The advantage you have is that you will end up somewhere, anyway. The disadvantage is that you may not know where."

* * *

"We have a problem," Jared pointed out. "We don't have our old clothes, for one . . ." 

"They're on their way as we speak," Malcolm informed him. "Anything else?"

"We've both grown since we've been here. Just enough to be a problem."

"Dewey's taking care of that. What else?"

"You have to come with us," Jared told them. "That wizard thinks you have the Sight. We know someone who can give it to you."

"Uh, yeah, no problem. We'll get back here by way of the restaurant again. I know plenty of good stories."

"Stories?"

[_Finally, I get to reveal something._

"Yeah, that's how you pay the check."

"Packages and Notts are here," Dewey said as he barged into the room.

Nicholas and Nickelby followed Dewey into the room, asked how many days and filled two spoons with the right number of drops. When they were done with their work, they watched as both boys shrank slightly. Nicholas smiled. "There, you've ungrown a full half inch. That doesn't happen every day."

Dewey handed the two boys a packet each and followed the Nott brothers when they left. As the door closed behind them, Draco said to Ginny, "I may be wrong but there seems to be a large number of twins around." When Ginny laughed, he added, "I'm serious. We know about the Weasley twins. But now we have the Grace Twins, the Nott twins, Malcolm has a twin brother, Argus Filch has a twin brother."

Becca laughed. "Dewey's girlfriend has a twin brother. Does that count?"

"Why not? And that reminds me. I have a twin running around, although it's not exactly the same thing."

"And the point of all this?" Ginny asked.

"I have a plan, but I need Nob's help."

"And why would you want to become Malcolm?"

"I don't. But I need to get back to the family Manor and flying is the safest way."

"But why?"

Draco smiled and kissed her. He whispered, "I'll explain after Malcolm leaves."

Draco walked over to Nob and told him what he needed. Nob smiled and gave him a hug. Draco disappeared and Malcolm appeared in his place. Draco looked in the Mirror that Ginny conjured for him, and frowned. For some reason, he became Malcolm at age eleven. Ginny couldn't help herself. She walked up to him and squeezed his cheek, telling him he looked so cute.

When Jared and Simon returned, they looked at Draco and laughed. Draco told them it had its advantages and transformed into an owl. Suddenly he transformed back. "Ginny, cancel the spell, quickly."

"Why?"

"The link that Malcolm and Nob share. That means I share it, too."

In seconds, Draco was back to his old form. And he was grateful.

"Link?"

"Yeah, me and Nob," Malcolm explained.

[_You know, we should try that someday. I mean, my trying to leave and Nob trying to stay cancel each other out so we end up nowhere. If Draco tried to stay as well, We could end up in a negative universe! That would be so cool._

"Are we ready?" Malcolm asked.

Jared grabbed Malcolm's arm while Simon walked over to where Nob was standing and grabbed his arm. Malcolm raised his arm to cast the spell when Jared had a horrible thought.

"What if this doesn't work?"

"Then we're screwed," Malcolm said and he cast the spell.

* * *

"Are they gone?" Holmes asked, as Draco and Ginny left the room. "And why are you still yourself." 

"We were wrong. I became the way Malcolm is now. And it's a good thing I think like him. I realized that they would have dragged me along as well."

"Then let us hope they have thought this through or we will have severe problems." He turned to Dewey. "You do understand the probable outcome. Either your brother, Reese, will die, or Draco will. And if Draco's dies, his fiancé will undoubtedly join him."

Dewey nodded. "We need Draco. And it has to be the real Draco." Dewey rubbed the wetness from his eye as he contemplated the fact that his brother would soon be dead. "Wow, talk about your mixed emotions."

Holmes smiled at Dewey's remark. "Back to business, however. Mister Malfoy, if you have any qualms about the part you must play, then speak now."

Two owls flew through the open door and landed as Malcolm and Nob. One of them was holding a book.

"It almost worked," Malcolm said happily. "And I got Draco a reprieve."

[_It feels good to be in charge again. And I've got to tell Luna Lovegood. I saw my first Nargle._


	16. Back To The Shadows

**Chapter 16: Back to the Shadows**

"That was convenient," Nob said as he looked up at the light above them.

"I like the door without a wall," Simon told him. "Congratulations, Malcolm. Your plan worked."

Malcolm tried the door. "It's locked." He pulled out his wand to cast a spell when the door opened from the inside. "Will that be smoking or nonsmoking? Oh, it's you two again, and you brought friends." She looked at the four boys. "Yours must be an interesting world. I should visit sometime. What do the girls look like?"

"Hi, Naomi," Malcolm said. "These guys are Jared and Simon. We're giving them a lift home."

Naomi led the way through the tavern, stopping every now and then as Jared or Simon stopped to stare. She opted for seating them in the smoking section so that they could get used to their surroundings. Also, the place was getting busy and the nonsmoking section was now too far away for her to bother.

"Menus or do you know what you want?"

"Pizza?" Jared asked. "Pepperoni and sausage?"

The other three agreed, and asked for iced tea all around.

"That man there is staring at us," Simon pointed out as the drinks were served.

"Which one?" Nob asked.

Simon pointed to a brown man with green hair that looked like pine needles. The man smiled and tapped his son on the shoulder. "Look, sapling. They appear to be your age."

The tree boy looked amazed. He waved a branchy arm at them and smiled when Simon and Nob waved back. Then their own meals were served and both father and son stepped into their basins to drink.

"Elves," Jared said, and nodded to a far table. It was a long bench with over forty men sitting at it. All of them had pointed ears and cat eyes. One of them noticed Jared watching and lifted his glass in a toast. Smiling, Jared returned the favor. The tavern had suddenly become a comfortable place for him. He let out a sigh as he relaxed.

Two pizzas arrived and were devoured in record time. The boys relaxed and sat back as someone stood up and began his tale. A tall man, human by the look of him, dressed in the casual clothes of a medieval lord.

"My journey nears its end," the man told everyone who was listening. "I return home now to my wife, my sons and my daughter. For eight years I roamed the wasteland of Agul Baizar, ridding it of the foul beasts and dastardly rogues that called it home. Many a man I lost in the task, but many more joined me because they knew my cause was just." He told of battles against monsters and marauders. And then of the final siege. "Finally, a fortnight ago, we broke through the gates of Balin Strum and toppled its ramparts. The nameless wizard was cornered and, as he sought one last enchantment, I broke his power. I gave him his name because it was also mine. Mine own uncle, immersed in the evil arts, had striven to undo us all. He slew his own brother and all who knew him to keep his dire secret safe. But before he did, my mother hid me away and whispered the truth of my secret name.

"Thus Olan Hlafwig fell by his own hand. Because those who share a name share a destiny."

The man nodded to his men and they rose up as one. In good order, they marched behind their lord to the stables and their last long journey to home.

As the men left, another rose up to tell his tale. By the time he was done, the empty table had new patrons, all placing their orders with the server. Another rose to tell a tale of lost love found once again after much peril. A centaur rose to tell of desperate flight from a black cousin who stole his lands and how, even now, he scours the land for any to help him in his quest. An ogre, as best he could be describe, stood up and told of travels to find his honor and make a place for him and his companions. He promised the centaur the help of four untried warriors . . . if he could promise them plenty of practice.

The tree man rose and apologized. He had no tale to tell. Calls rose up, all good-hearted, that the debt must be paid. The boy rose up and claimed he had a tale of wonder and excitement. He told them of how his father had taken him to an inn filled with wondrous creatures. Elves and nymphs. Knights and Centaurs. And a horde of humans all identical in their looks. He was cheered in his departure by everyone, including four boys at a nearby table.

The hall grew silent as eyes turned to see who would be next. The elf who toasted Jared stood up.

"I tell no tale of valiant deeds. Nor of love or dire peril. No usurpers steal my throne because I have none. I am a tradesman and these with me my drivers. I travel the deserts that lead to anywhere and nowhere, and on a lost journey have stumbled upon this inn many times. On one journey I did not. It was a journey where I met with Death.

"My horse fell one day. A scorpion sting or simply a failed heart I do not know, for the horse was a faithful and loyal servant for many long years. I mourned the loss of the horse but I had no means to bury it. My men, always eager for meat, carved the body on the sand and took it to fires to roast. I stood there and watched the spilled blood sink into the sand, saying my last farewell to a good companion.

"That was when I heard my horse whinny. I walked to the top of the sand dune whence I had heard the sound. The horse was there but pale and wispy. I knew it to be a ghost. And next to him stood the dark lady, dressed in black, with no ornamentation except a neckchain that held a golden ankh. She embraced my horse about the neck. An embrace he eagerly took. He faded, and once he was gone the lady threw her hands in the air. There was the sound of flapping wings and horses hooves galloping away at great speed.

"When all sound was gone, the lady looked at me. 'You have a question,' she said with a smile that filled me with peace.

"I would wish to know the length of my life, lady, so that I might know when to greet you, I told her. She told me, 'you will live as long as everyone else. A lifetime'."

The man smiled. "We are not ready to leave just yet. I wished to tell my tale, now, because I wish to linger long enough to hear the tale of a human who knows of elves." He lifted his glass and toasted Jared a second time.

Jared stood up. He picked up his glass and returned the toast. And now hundreds of eyes were on him. "I'm glad it's not me," Nob was telling Malcolm who replied that he'd only mess it up anyway. As Nob insisted that Malcolm couldn't do any better, Jared felt someone tap his hand. He looked down at his brother. Simon mouthed the words, "You know a great story."

Jared looked up at the elf. He realized it was much easier to speak if he concentrated on one person. The elf saw his nervousness and gave an encouraging smile. Jared returned the smile. "I suppose it all began when we moved into my Great-Aunt's house. We needed a place to live and . . . it was free, even though it needed a lot of work . . ."

Jared intended only to tell them about the secret room and Thimbletack, but he became lost in his tale and only ended when he told that his great-Aunt had come to live with them.

When he sat down, Naomi was there with a cup of hot chocolate. She also added that for such a tale the next meal was on the house. And the elf was there. He thanked Jared for such an elaborate tale. He also promised, should conditions permit, to visit his world one day and show him his wares.

The elf was gone. As were his companions. Jared finished his chocolate and the four boys stood up. They walked back to the door they had entered by. Malcolm explained to them that they needed to agree on where they were going and when. Simon nodded. They both agreed, Saturday, the front porch, just before lunch. Enough time had passed that they could eat another meal. Jared opened the door and the two brothers stepped through. The door closed, leaving Malcolm and Nob.

[_I have to admit it. They were strange. I mean, who ever heard of two brothers who like each other._

"Well," Nob asked with annoyance. "Do you know where we're going?"

"Dang. We're supposed to go with them."

Malcolm opened the door and they both rushed through.

* * *

"I guess we open the door," Jared said. He turned the knob and they stepped through onto their front porch.

"We are back," Simon agreed.

"Nice house," Malcolm said a moment later as he and Nob appeared.

Nob nodded his head in Malcolm's direction. "Someone forgot to mention that we were supposed to follow you."

Simon laughed and opened the front door. "MOM, MALLORY, AUNT LUCINDA."

Mallory walked into view. "You decided to come home. How was the wedding?"

"Jared actually kissed a girl. It was great. We have a ton of stuff to tell you."

"Start off by telling me which one of your friends is Malcolm." When Malcolm raised his hand, she added, "so you're the one to blame. And I was told you were a genius."

[_Give her red hair and she could be Ginny. She already has the attitude._

Mallory smirked at Malcolm's frown. "And I don't want any crap from any of you. Dad's coming by in a couple of hours and Mom said she doesn't want to give him any surprises."

"It's a business trip, lady," Malcolm told her. "We'll be gone before you know it."

"But not until after lunch," Mallory told them. "Mom will want to meet you."

Simon smiled and said that wouldn't be a problem. He also asked about Hogsqueal. As soon as he mentioned the name another voice shouted, "About time you beetleheads thought about me." The Grace children laughed as Malcolm and Nob stared at them in confusion.

Jared led the way into the house, formally introduced his sister and the hobgoblin. He then explained why they were there. Hogsqueal pointed out that they couldn't see or hear him, and that was for the best. He grinned and told them to have the two boys kneel and keep their eyes opened.

[_They're just trying to make us feel stupid._

Malcolm knelt down. After a moment of doubt, so did Nob. Nob was looking forward at where Simon was pointing and suddenly shouted, wiping suddenly moist eyes. He opened them to stare in surprise. "So that's what a Hobgoblin looks like." When Malcolm asked where, Nob pointed. When Malcolm looked at what was for him an empty spot, Hogsqueal went, "Ptui," spitting in both of Malcolm's eyes in one shot.

[_That was really disgusting._

Malcolm opened his eyes and stared. Not only did he see the hobgoblin, there was a smaller creature behind him that Mallory explained was a brownie. Thimbletack introduced himself. "I greet the twins of twins I see." In a fake whisper he added. "I'm glad there's more of you than me. If I had my very own double, I know there would be constant trouble."

"Hey, that rhymes," Nob said.

"His words always rhyme," Jared explained.

"He does it all the time," Simon added.

Helen walked in at that point. She eyed her two sons with the other two identical boys. Then she laughed.

* * *

"See that," Mallory asked, pointing to a low branch on a tree near the creek. "That's one pixie you want to avoid."

"It doesn't even look nice," Nob said.

"It took us a while to figure out that it hangs around here because of the troll."

"I was talking to one girl who was at the wedding," Simon told them. "When I described this particular pixie, she told me I was talking about a Nargle. She also said I was lucky I could see them."

[_Wow, Loony Lovegood was right about something._

"Hey, turtlebutts," Hogsqueal suddenly shouted from the trees. "You're wanted at home. The company's here."

"Time to go," Mallory said with a touch of sadness. "Thanks, you two, for helping my brothers out. And thanks for doing that owl trick. We all got a kick out it."

"If you ever need our help again," Simon told Malcolm, "forget to ask."

"Cut the crap," Mallory responded. "You'd jump at the chance for another adventure."

"No," Jared answered. "And we don't have to. Adventures seem to find us."

"It was fun," Nob admitted. "And we may visit again, just for fun. I still want to see your Griffin."

Malcolm agreed as he pulled out his wand. He asked Nob if he was ready, then cast the spell. The Grace children watched as the two wizardlings disappeared. With a sigh, they walked back to the house. As they passed through the front gate and up the driveway, a familiar figure began waving to them. Their father had arrived. Because of the distance, they had seen him only four of five times since the divorce.

But Jared and Simon discovered that they were going on another adventure, after all. Their father had changed jobs and had now moved even further away. He also invited them to join him the rest of the summer. And their mother agreed that there was no problem if two boys wanted to spend the next two months in Florida. Both boys admitted to themselves that this was the type of adventure they would like.

* * *

"Back again?" Naomi asked. "You two look like you could use a bed more than a meal."

And Malcolm woke up in a comfortable room. Unlike last time, he decided to look out the window. It was night, and the heavens were filled with stars. There was no moon, but a milky swirl that filled one part of the sky from what he could see. And the landscape, pale under the starlight, was rather plain. Trees and an empty road beneath him, giving way to farmland in early autumn. Pleasant to look at but not too exciting.

Nob woke and peeked out the window. "It's always night, you know. The landscape changes but the sun never rises."

They dressed and made their way to the restaurant, this time not daring to go through any strange doors. Malcolm did notice that, from the window view, they appeared to be about the fifth floor of a normal building. He also remembered going up four flights of stairs to their room. The trip back, they only had to take three flights of stairs down. They entered an already crowded room. Naomi wasn't there, but the cat lady they had met the first time was. She asked if they would like to share one of the large tables.

The two were seated at a table, more a picnic table with benches, for eight. They sat together, with Malcolm on the end. It was a surprise that the tree man and his son were sitting across from them. Two adult elves sat next to the tree man. Their daughter, who looked the same age as the twins, sat next to Nob, with her younger brother on the far end.

"Orders?" A dark woman asked as she held out her note pad and quill.

"Breakfast platters for three," the elvish woman said, "And one children's platter, the one that comes with the toy."

"YES," The elf boy shouted.

"Two breakfast platters, too," Malcolm added.

"Uh," Nob said. When the woman looked at him, he asked. "I was just curious, you know, about the toy. I mean . . ."

"I'll bring you one," the woman offered. "You can give it to a sibling." She smiled at him. "With a wonderful story about where it came from. Feel free to exaggerate."

She turned to the tree man who told her, "Two basins of Sula water."

"With Sooga?" the boy asked sheepishly.

The man smiled, "One of them with a hint of Sooga." As the waitress left, the tree man turned to the elf woman. "We do spoil our seedlings, don't we?"

"It is a party of sorts," the woman admitted. She looked at Malcolm. "And you are unaccompanied?"

"We're just heading back to school. We had to drop some friends off."

"And your parents are not here?"

Both boys grinned.

"Mom," the elf boy, now standing on the bench. "Their ears are ROUND!"

"Don't pay any attention to him," the elvish girl told Malcolm and Nob amid the polite laughter, "He's not even fifty."

"Fifty?" Malcolm asked.

[_My mom's not even fifty._

"Yes," the girl said. "I'm curious. How old are you?"

"Eleven."

The girl looked surprised. It was her father who spoke.

"Lycilia, not all folk are immortal. I mean no disrespect," he said to Malcolm specifically, but also to everyone else, "but she does need to understand. Dearest, if I judge his people properly, he will not live to be even your age."

"He won't even live two hundred years?" Lycilia asked in surprise.

"I'll be lucky to reach a hundred," Malcolm answered.

"You poor things. To have such a short life span."

[_Right now, what I need is a good retort. And I can't think of one. What do you say to a girl your age who's already twenty times older than you? Wait, I've got it._

"We all live for the same amount of time. A life time."

Nob looked at the girl. His expression was ageless. "Perhaps we should think more about what we do with them than talk about how long they are." He then nudged Malcolm. "Why is everyone laughing?"

[_If I could stop laughing, I'd tell him we all have dirty minds_.

"That is always good advice," the elf husband said, and the adults began laughing again.

"It wasn't that funny," Lycilia said as she blushed.

"Good," Malcolm replied loudly. "You can explain it to Nob."

The blush increased as her brother added, "I'll tell him. I know all about that."

[_We have achieved Magenta. I wonder how that ranks on the elf scale. I'll ask Dobby when we get back._

Explanations and conversation were delayed by the arrival of the food. Again, the brown man and his sapling stepped into the basins to drink. Malcolm was served his breakfast platter and had second thoughts. The eggs were sunny side up but the yolks were a bluish green. The bacon was definitely not from a pig. The potatoes looked like normal home fries, and the bread seemed normal, too. Perhaps not a normal grain but at least a familiar color. There were a couple of things on the platter that he did not recognize except that one was meat and the other was some kind of fruit.

[_They tasted great. The meat tasted just like chicken, big surprise, but the fruit was some kind of melon with an almost lime flavor._

Nob hesitated before he started eating. He was looking at the box which contained the toy. Then the elf mother said, "Not until after you eat." She wasn't talking to Nob, but he obeyed anyway. He didn't want to look childish.

The elf boy was finished first. His mother said he simply inhaled the meal. And he was opening the wooden box in front of him. It was a ball that shown different colors. He carefully picked it up at two spots that did not show. The ball, about four inches in diameter, had eight different colors arranged in slanted rows that swirled around and across the ball. The boy looked up in delight and asked his father's permission. He began running his hands over the lights.

Music came out. The boy would run a finger along one trail and then another, playing the scales. Because each color was a different note, and all the lights of the same color were variations. A, Aflat, Asharp, and then the same one octave higher and one octave lower. It was a synthesizer in the shape of an orb.

The boy looked at Nob, "what did you get?"

Nob sat down his fork, he was almost finished anyway. He opened his box. It was a long thin thing, twice as big and wide as a wand box. He opened it, and smiled. It was a flute. He paused. What kind of place was this that would give away a flute as a child's toy. He pulled the two pieces from the box and put them together. Then he smiled at Malcolm. He had never played a flute before, but Dewey had let him try his saxophone, and let him have his old one. He knew the principle involved.

Playing the scales to understand where his notes where, Nob knew he was good enough to play a slow tune, and he only knew one. He began to play.

[_I know that tune. "Oh, Danny Boy . . . "_

"Lovely," the tree man said, but the elves were amazed, and the boy delighted. He began to run his fingers over the lights on the balls, playing along with Nob. The idea that a human child would know an ancient elvish tune never struck him as strange.

When they were done, the applause came from the neighboring tables as well. The elvish man looked at Nob and asked, "How."

Nob stood up. "It's time for me to pay for my meal. The song I played is known as the Londonderry Air. It is also known as O'Caithlin's Lament. One day, the bard, Rory O'Caithlin had too much to drink and left the castle where he was playing for the local lord, his harp clutched to his breast. He made his way down the road and stepped off the path into the trees where he found a spot near a creek. It was here he . . . rested." Nob knew enough to expect the crowd to laugh. They did not disappoint.

"O'Caithlin awoke to the sound of music being played, music he had never heard before. He knew at once he was listening to the Danann, the fairy people," He looked at the other end of the table, "the elves." The man smiled back in understanding. "He listened carefully, memorizing the tune. He stayed to listen until servants from the castle disturbed the scene with their loud calls for him.

"Rory O'Caithlin raised himself to his feet and returned to the castle as quickly as he could. He explained to everyone there what has happened. Then he played them the tune. The same tune that I, with the help of a young elf, played for you today."

"A good song and a good story," the tree man said. "But I fear what I must say when my time comes as it will shortly. All I did was travel to another land, where I was going anyway, to obtain the medicine for one of those rots that one gets, that discolors one's bark. No one knows how they get these things, you know, you pick them up somewhere. My brother's saplings picked it up at school. It was a small scandal. It's supposed to be one of those fancy schools, you know."

[_That is funny. A tree school for nerds. Hey, how do you know if your tree is a nerd? He has square roots!_

"Is it serious?" The woman asked.

"Like all things, if untreated it can cause the bark to peal, your needles to fall out and, if you leave it long enough, it could kill you." He gave a whimsical smile. "Or you could bathe your roots in some healing talc water and get rid of it before nightfall."

"You're telling it all wrong," Malcolm said. "Here, I'll take care of it . . . Um, My name's Malcolm."

"Lief," the tree man answered.

[_Figures._

The next speaker had finished. Some guy in a toga. It was a short tale about sneaking into the halls of the gods and stealing the secret of fire. He was taking the secret back to his people. Malcolm stood up once.

"I am speaking not for myself, but for the traveler, Lief, who risks his life not for fame or glory but because it is what needs to be done. Even now he returns to his home, his sapling as his only companion, to rescue his people from a terrible blight. A rampaging sickness that discolors the bark. Then all the needles fall out of one's head. And then . . . DEATH.

"It was only by chance and fortune that Lief knew the path to take for the one cure to this plague, and the safe path to return. And he has passed this knowledge to a new generation so it will not be lost. And when he leaves here, his people will be restored to their health, it is hoped without many casualties . . .

[_I think Lief is laughing._

. . . and he will not have a great feast of celebration in his honor, nor any great parade. All he wants is to see the smiles of his HEALTHY family and friends. That is the only reward he seeks or wants."

The applause was loud and well meant. Even the sapling was applauding. When things had quieted down, Lief admitted that he would rather see the backs of some of his relatives, and he wouldn't really say no to a great feast.

The elvish man stood up. "I come from a far world. Travel is not uncommon to the stars, nor has it been in all my lifetime. We travel today not in fear or danger, but in celebration. My uncle has died, which is a sad thing in itself, but he was also the king. And we have mourned him as is our custom for three years. And in two days time my cousin is to be crowned, to take his father's place."

The man went on for maybe thirty minutes describing the great sights they would see and the great sites they would visit: The Clercia Temple which rises into the sky it a great tortured curve; The King's Market with stalls lined with gold filigree that glimmer like a thousand suns; The Offal Court where the countless rabble gather to argue their cases of law. As he went into great detail describing his favorite murals in the Royal Gallery, Lycilia turned to Malcolm. "He's describing everything. Next he'll describe the royal toilets."

He ended to a thunderous round of applause. The man smiled, completely unaware that they were applauding the fact that he stopped talking. He gathered his family and they walked off in the direction of the stables.

Lief thanked Malcolm for the wonderful story about himself, and hoped that his family would find root in fertile soil. They walked off to somewhere while Malcolm and Nob headed toward the door they had entered by. Malcolm asked Nob if they were ready. Nob held up the flute case and said he had some extra baggage but he should be fine.

They opened the door and walked through.

They were in a field, one that seemed to stretch into eternity. A familiar blond man was standing there.

"Ah. You came to return the robes. Thank you."

He was gone a moment later as were the fancy dress robes that Malcolm and Nob were still wearing. They were dressed in the clothes they originally had when they met Daniel the first time. In his spot was a second door.

"Excuse me," Nob said as he walked around the door. "That's weird. You can't see it from the side or back." He opened the door and stepped through. Malcolm followed him and closed the door behind him. They were in a room. The room where they had talked with Sherlock Holmes about what they should do. Malcolm carefully opened a window and looked out.

"No one will notice us." They both leaned out over the edge without fear. Why be afraid when you can change into an owl before you hit the ground and then fly back to the window to try again. "Too dark," Malcolm said and looked at Nob who had already turned into an owl. Malcolm called him a show off before transforming as well.

The boys and girls below them were beginning to set up the fireworks display. Once the match was over, they would light one main fuse and then sit back with everyone else to watch the show. Malcolm watched as everything was prepared. He was also looking around. Then he spotted himself. A nip at Nob's wing, and his brother was watching as well.

Malcolm, at fifteen, was hiding beneath his cloak, far enough away that he would not accidentally be discovered. Once the preparations were complete, and the students now concentrating on the match being played above them, He crept over and undid one pair of fireworks. He deftly substituted two of his own. Once he was done, he walked away. Malcolm and Nob followed him from above. Their view of him even improved as they drew away from the lights of the school. And when he mounted his broom, they followed him to the cottage where he was staying.

They waited patiently for the light to go out in his room. When it did, they flew down from the tree. Malcolm transformed but Nob did not. Finding the window locked, he pulled out his wand and tried to say the spell as quietly as he could.

"Alohamora," He whispered, knowing what would probably happen anyway. And it did.

As the window opened, the lights came on throughout the entire house. A loud claxon was heard, and that woke the older Malcolm, who went to grab for a bag. Nob swooped in and bit his arm, forcing the grip on the bag to relax. As the bag dropped back to the ground, the older Malcolm did not even try to do anything else, including getting out of bed. He twisted in place and was gone with a loud popping noise.

Nob transformed and reached for the bag just as a number of French Wizards appeared. He smiled and pointed out the window at his brother.

[_Okay, let's see exactly how this is going to work._

"Hi, guys. I'm Francis's brother, Malcolm."

Nob looked at him. "Try saying it in French, nerdbrain."

One of the wizards translated what Nob had said into French. They all looked at Malcolm and laughed.

As several wizards went around cleaning up the magical mess, two listened to Malcolm's prearranged story, all of which was told in French. Most of it was the truth. He explained that he was following a rogue Death Eater who had targeted Dewey for some unknown reason. They had taken advantage of the situation to use a time turner to go back to before the last incident and follow the assassin, but were tripped up by a magical booby trap before they could sound the alarm.

"Why didn't you sound the alarm at once?" one of the wizards asked.

"Because I'm still here. I can't sound the alarm until after I go back in time, after dinner tomorrow."

"And Dewey?"

"He lives, but he doesn't manage to get back to the school until lunchtime." Malcolm looked at his watch. "He's being blown up, just about now."

A wizard suddenly appeared. "Inspector, Beauxbatons! Murder!"

"We know," one of the wizards said. "Attempted murder. We almost caught the man but he planned well." He pointed to Malcolm and Nob. "Do you see these two boys? They are not here. They never were."

"Oui, Inspector," the wizard said with a smile. He would let everyone know that the inspector proved himself once again. He apparated back to his office to make his report.

"This may be stupid," Malcolm said after the conversation was over, "but why was I told to mention Francis?"

The inspector smiled. He answered in English. "Because whoever sent you did his homework. I am in charge of relocation efforts in this area. My contact is Henri Renault."

"Greaser?"

The inspector smirked at the nickname, but continued. "The fact that you do not understand means that I should not tell you any more. Your brother will inform you if he sees fit." He changed back to French. "You must leave. We have almost finished restoring the cottage and the couple who live here."

Not waiting for a second chance, both boys took wing and flew out the window. They had one more visit to make. As they neared their goal, Malcolm spotted Draco and Ginny sitting beneath a tree on the edge of a field. He noticed Draco's eyes dart up.

[_I think he saw me. I hope that doesn't cause any problems._

They perched in a tree and waited. Malcolm and Nob appeared with Jared and Simon. Voldemort apparated in and began questioning them. He handed the orb around, then held it himself. When everyone began running back to the school, Malcolm and Nob flew down and changed back. Malcolm cast the retrieval spell which pulled the orb from the dark lord's hand, saving him some five seconds of pain. To no one's surprise, he recovered almost at once.

[_He probably enjoyed it. For him, giving IS just as good as receiving._

"Sir?" Malcolm said fearfully.

"Are they running away?"

"I told them to. It'll make it easier that way."

"Malcolm, your robes, and Nob's, what happened to them?" The wand was out and it was only curiosity that was staying the dark wizard's hand.

"We gave them to the two muggles. We told them that was how they tracked us. They think we're going to kill you."

"And you told him all this in fifteen seconds?"

"Here's my robes. Now he won't know we're here. We'll meet you after we get rid of him."

"Four seconds," Nob pointed out. "And Malcolm promised to show me how to apparate in midair."

Malcolm spoke hastily as the red eyes focused on him. "My plan is this. We tell the muggles that we're going to take them home. We apparate, oh five or ten miles out into the ocean, and all of us who can turn into owls will fly back home." He paused as he lowered his eyes. "We owe it to you, Sir. For screwing up the way we did."

"Carry through with your plan and you are forgiven. I never want to see or hear of those boys again, except in the past tense."

Malcolm nodded.

"Sir," Nob said in a voice that made him sound his chronological age, "About Ginny, she didn't know about Reese. She thought you were lying."

"And why is she with him."

"Well . . . Reese always had a crush on her, and he thought, since Potter's gone and hid like a stinking coward, maybe he could impress her by, you know, making her think he, that is, Draco changed."

Voldemort laughed. "Inform the girl that you have CORRECTED me on this error. I will have to inform Draco's parents about what has happened. Consider yourselves fortunate that I reward loyalty."

The dark lord apparated.

"So, what do we do now?" Nob asked as they walked back to where the flute box and the bag had been left.

[_It's great. If you're carrying something, it transforms with you, and it's not like carrying dead weight. But you are heavier, so it can't be too much._

"You have your flute. You can practice." Malcolm opened the bag. "I'm thinking of reading a book."


	17. What's It All About, Malcolm

A/N: Having posted the last chapter with Jared and Simon, I went to see the movie. For me, what made it interesting was how it differed from the books. And it was different enough. I can see problems with future fanfics based on the Spiderwick Chronicles. And for me, that will make things interesting. (How about a story where the twins from the book meet the twins from the movie? Through in a hint of Beowulf and have Mulgarath's mom come after them.)

And while I'm at it, thanks to everyone for reading. I've already thanked the reviewers. (Just in case, Thanks, again, for the reviews)

**Chapter 17: What's it all about, Malcolm**

Francis was having a massive headache. It was still three days to opening day, and the retailers were screaming. Their stocks were being delivered but not fast enough. Many of the smaller stores were excited and well prepared for the basics, but the larger chains were having problems. Wizards, many of whom hated muggles to begin with, spent their hours reconfiguring store spaces and store managers' minds. The spaces were the way the managers wanted them and the managers were convinced that Francis was a genius in guessing their every needs.

At a store owners meeting, Francis, wearing a suit and tie for the first time when he was not in a church or a courtroom, explained that sufficient products on hand were not as important as getting people to visit the new mall in the first place. If they could get them into the habit quickly enough, the Christmas season would be well worth all the hassles.

And he also had his job organizing the tours. He had a waiting list that kept growing. And he already had some cancellations that he received through secondary sources. None of that sounded good. But he only had one bus and one driver. And one extremely confused tour guide. His boss also noticed his frequent absences and asked. He admitted that he was one of the part owners of the mall, all because of a stupid investment he made a while back and forgot about. He also admitted that they wanted him to be a managing partner.

And that led to his next interview. He had to find a replacement. He greeted the tour guide who had taken over his job.

"Robert, isn't it?"

"Uh, it's Robin. Look, Sir, I know you've built this into a successful tour, but I have to be honest. Half the time, I don't know what's going on. On this last tour, we made three pickups along country roads, at night. I've had several people assure me they were completely normal. On two occasions, a child has asked me if I'm a squib or a muggle. And to make matters worse, half the people made no effort to leave the bus when I told them we were making a 'stop to shop'. Those that did only went to use the facilities. And one tourist told me she didn't have any money when I tried to talk her into going into the shop."

"Did you have any problems at the train station?" Francis asked.

Robin looked surprised. "Do you mean everyone racing into the station as though it was a matter of life and death? If not, then no. And why are French customs agents meeting them on this side of the channel? Even if that were normal, shouldn't it be the Belgians?"

Francis tried to look confused. "I talked to the driver, Mark, and he didn't notice any problems."

"HIM? He knows the routes better than I do. I don't even know where we are half the time until everyone is on board the bus. And that's only after two tours. Why don't these people meet at a single spot, like the bus depot? That's the way normal tours work."

"So, I guess you're not interested in being the permanent guide? Even if it would mean more money. On the surface, you'll be responsible for booking the tours, but I've got a couple of people in the field doing that for me. All you'll really need to do is ride the bus and keep everyone calm. I mean happy, keep them happy."

Robin's haggard face seemed to lighten a bit. "That would mean more money?"

Francis smiled inwardly. "About double your current salary and a percentage of the profits. If any."

"Well, they aren't really that bad. A little odd, but what can you expect from people who take a tour of their own country? When do I take over?"

"Now?" Francis asked.

Robin smiled as he was now sitting in his office as opposed to five seconds ago when he was sitting in his boss's office. "I see no problem."

* * *

Francis stopped by the depot to let Mark, the driver, know what was going on. Mark had some news as well.

"Word came back through the grapevine. Some people from the first trip. They went to the States. All of them were picked up as soon as they arrived."

"All of them?"

"That means . . ."

"Anyone from the second trip will be picked up as well. Word has it that the U.S. pipeline is closed down. And get this: Americans are putting pressure on the French to not get involved."

Francis smiled. "I think I have a friend who can help."

"Francis, I wanted you to know. I'm enjoying this. But we'd better think of an escape plan for ourselves, just in case. I don't believe all those people can keep their mouths shut. Not from what I heard."

* * *

Headmaster Snape was not in a good mood. Everyone who had gone to Beauxbatons was now in his office, three days later than when they had left.

"Nob, you don't have to raise your hand. You should have gone before you came to my office."

"No, Sir, it's not that. I actually saw a Nargle."

"For such a feat, we'll transfer you to Ravenclaw. There's someone there you'll feel at home with. Anything else of interest occur, outside of Dewey being blown to pieces and living to talk about it?"

"I have a flute," Nob added.

Snape glared at him. "I know you're doing it deliberately. I don't know why. Malcolm, why are you smiling." He turned to Dewey. "Why is he smiling? He read your book?"

"Yeah, Malcolm stole it. But it's okay, Malcolm stole it back."

Snape turned back to Malcolm. "So, you really are trying to kill your own brother? Why not start with Reese? Plenty of people would even help you."

"It's not me. I mean, he's not an animagus, he doesn't have Nob for a brother and he never met Professor Nott."

"The temporary Potions teacher for Beauxbatons? What did happen to their regular Professor that she's going to be out for so long?"

"Maternity leave."

Snape nodded. The nutty Notts were out of his hands at least until Christmas, with luck longer than that. That was one good thing. A second, and public, attack on Dewey was on the list of bad things. The muggle twins were gone. That was good. Malcolm was back. Bad. Nob came with him. Bad, just to be safe. Draco was still alive. Good. He was still dating Ginny Weasley. Bad. Everyone was looking at him. Bad.

"No one is to say anything. Malcolm, if people want to know why you don't remember certain things, don't explain yourself. It will cause less confusion."

[_He's wrong. People would still be just as confused._

"Miss Dutton," Snape said, "Congratulations are in order. Now that Dewey is known to have survived, the newspapers have returned to gossip. Your dance with Nob has made the Daily Prophet. I'm sure your parents will be proud. Malcolm's mother has already owled me and demanded that at least one of you be put in a different house." He turned to Nob. "I wasn't joking earlier. You are now in Ravenclaw until your mother can have you sent to a different school."

[_See! Even he won't argue with my mom when she's in a bad mood._

Snape looked down at his notes. "Miss Weasley, you will be happy to know that your parents believed your story that you know about Reese and that you are doing it to drive Draco crazy. You are still loved by your family.

"Mister Malfoy, should you ever become yourself again, what Miss Weasley and Malcolm's brother have been doing is driving you crazy. You are even begging your parents to let you come back to school. Hopefully that won't happen.

"Mister Zeller, because you are a convenient scapegoat you are permanently barred from Beauxbatons. A formal review will be conducted at the end of the school year to decide if the action is appropriate. It seems there are mitigating circumstances.

"Dewey, congratulations on an impressive victory. I have informed the Slytherin Quidditch team that if they do not make you their seeker they are to be banned from playing on the grounds that they are too stupid. Have I left anyone out of my harangue?"

Hagrid raised his hand.

"Professor Hagrid, I regret to inform you that Nob is not your favorite student. It was one of the muggle boys."

"Ya mean Simon. He tol' me. After he let slip he had a griffin as a pet back home where he came from."

[_I love when these two talk to each other. If looks could kill, they'd take out the entire school in the crossfire._

"You knew already. Oh, joy, one more person to add to the list."

* * *

Timmy answered the door when the bell rang. He twirled his fake mustache and invited the two gentlemen in. They were led into the dining room where three people were already eating dinner.

"You see, my dear Doctor, we are not exact duplicates. Merely a very close resemblance."

"Can I help you?" Francis asked as David Winter drew his wand.

"I came to offer my services," Holmes said, making a point not to introduce himself. "I have been enlisted by the French government to investigate the attempted assassination of your brother, Dewey, while he was a guest in their country. As their jurisdiction does not cross the channel, I may not continue without the express permission of a relative who resides in this country."

Despite talking to Francis, he was eyeing David Winter the entire time. When he finished making his request, he nodded politely, never taking his eyes from those of his lookalike. As he expected, it was not Francis who answered.

"Such a request should come through my office," David said courteously, never lowering his wand. "Dewey is an American. And my office is conducting its own investigation."

"Francis, does your wife know?"

"Know what?" Piama asked.

"Nothing," Francis answered.

"And Mister Winter?" Holmes asked.

"Who are you?" David demanded.

"That is not important at the moment. But I'm afraid that what you know, Console, is of the utmost importance. After all, you are in a perfect position to pass on the information to someone who would find it extremely useful."

"Explain yourself NOW," David demanded.

"The mark on your arm explains everything," Holmes said. "Francis, he is not the man you think he is. He is a Death Eater. He killed your friend and his wife in this very room and took his place."

"Holmes?" Watson said as he stepped away from his associate.

"NOW, WATSON."

Both he and Watson dropped to the ground as Winter called out the killing curse. The greenish glow flew over his head and destroyed the wall behind him. At that moment, several wizards apparated into the room. Timmy had snapped his fingers at the same time throwing David into the china cupboard behind him and sending his wand flying. The wizards, wands drawn, surrounded the dazed man and one sent a binding spell. The American Console was tightly wrapped in ropes.

"Monsieur Winter," One wizard said in a thick accent, "You are under arrest for the assault of English nationals under the protection of the French Republic with the intent to commit bodily harm upon their person."

"You have no right," David Winter told him, adding a remark that questioned the legitimacy of the man's ancestry.

"You may raise all objections at your trial, in Paris. And I remind you, Monsieur, in France you are presumed to be guilty until you prove otherwise." The Wizard waved his hand in a telling gesture and David Winter was grabbed forcefully to his feet. He and the other wizards apparated from the room.

"Monsieur Holmes," the wizard said, "Are you injured." Assured that the detective was not, the wizard also disappeared with a loud popping noise.

"Holmes?" Piama asked as she recovered her surprise.

"Sherlock Holmes, at your service, Madam. And, Francis, it is not prudent to keep secrets from your wife. You will surely regret it."

After a few unsettling moments, Piama suggested their new guests join them for dinner. And a full explanation. Francis began by explaining to Piama about the bus tours and why he invited David Winter to dinner. Piama was angry, but remained calm. Holmes then explained about the attempt on Dewey's life, omitting certain details such as where exactly he had come from. Holmes and Watson left with full stomachs and permission to continue their investigation.

"Where to, now, Holmes?"

"The American consulate, I should think, Watson."

"An American accent?"

"I won't stay long. I only need to send a message to the right people. Then we must return to France for an interesting trial."

"A message?"

Holmes smiled.

* * *

"Madam Secretary," the clerk said to the Secretary of Magic. "A diplomatic courier arrived from England." He handed over the pouch.

The Secretary opened the pouch and read the contents. She put the parchment down and picked up a quill. "There has been a change in British policy. It seems the French made a formal protest." She signed her name at the bottom of the parchment. "Expedite this request. All of the people we are holding for return are to be turned over to the Canadian authorities as a neutral third party. Anyone else who arrives is to be rerouted there as well."

"Awful mess, they've got over there," the clerk said.

"They'll straighten it out soon enough," the Secretary told him. "At least we're no longer directly involved."

"Madam Secretary, this also came with the pouch." He handed over an envelope. "It seems that David Winter finds it appropriate to resign his position, to show the French that our involvement was incidental."

"Damn," the secretary said. "Now we need someone else to take over the post." She did not need to add that the post also consisted of keeping that showoff, Malcolm, from becoming an embarrassment. Again.

* * *

Nob walked up the spiral staircase to the entrance for Ravenclaw. Professor Snape had chosen Luna Lovegood as his guide. They stopped in front of the door and Nob looked for the doorknob.

Suddenly, the bronze doorknocker spoke. "Journey without end. Travel everywhere to end up back where you began."

Nob looked at Luna. "Is this some kind of test?"

"You need to give the correct answer in order to get in."

Nob shrugged. "Fine." He turned back to the door knocker and said, "a mobius strip."

"Correct." The door swung open and Nob entered the common room. The walls were adorned with the house colors, same as with Gryffindor, but the room was round, with vaulted windows at the far end which gave a majestic view of the mountains. The deep blue carpet had stars on it as did the ceiling.

"Is that because everyone here is spacey?"

Luna laughed. "Don't worry. You'll fit in, just like I did."

"Uh, right."

"You sound like you might have been bitten by a Nargle," Luna said quietly. A couple of students nearby gave Nob a knowing look.

"Is that bad? I mean, I almost was but I swatted it away."

Luna nodded. "I heard you had the Sight. It's very useful."

Nob couldn't help notice that everyone within hearing distance was watching him. "You do know," he said to the closest student, "they're a type of pixie. They just have a mean streak."

Nob realized he was fitting in just like Luna.

"They don't look like pixies," Luna said conversationally as they walked toward the door that led to the dorms.

"I know. They're more crumpled looking, but I asked an expert and he told me they were the same species. He calls them by a different name though. That's probably why everyone's confused. He listed it in his book as a form of sprite. Its scientific name is Desulter Agilis. So I guess you're right. It's not a real pixie."

Luna thanked him for the information and made him promise to get her a copy of the book he mentioned should he ever have the chance. She told him where the first year boys were, and went to her own dorm. Nob thanked her and went to his new dorm room. Hesitantly, he opened the door and looked in. Everyone in the room turned to stare.

"Hi."

"Your bed is there," one boy said and pointed to the four poster bed with blue curtains, at the base of which was his trunk.

"Yesiree," Nob said. "A nice cheerful reception." No response. He stood there. "So, all of you are supposed to be really smart."

"Is your name Wally?"

Nob shrugged his shoulders again and went to his trunk to check the contents. It didn't take very long as he knew nothing was misplaced. Not knowing what else to do he sat on his trunk and looked around.

One of the other first years laughed. "See anything that's not there?" When the others stopped laughing, he called out to Nob. "Hey, Moron, I'm down here."

"Staring off into space," one boy whispered to another. "That's why Loony Luna brought him here."

Nob reached into his trunk for parchment and a quill, then sat down again. Ignoring the laughs and smirks, he made a quick sketch and wrote something underneath. Then he stood up and walked toward the boy who called him Wally. He handed him the parchment. The boy shrugged, that he didn't know, and wrote 'where is it'. Nob pointed above the boy's head. The boy made a gesture with his hands to ask how big. Nob held two fingers very close together. No one was laughing.

The boy motioned for Nob to follow. He pointed up with a questioning look as he walked toward the door. Nob nodded. Whatever it was, it was following him. They went out into the common room. The boy walked up to one of the older students, his fingers to his lips, and showed him the parchment. The older boy took the quill from Nob and wrote 'a listening bug'.

Nob held his finger to his eye, and the older student shook his head. He wasn't the only one to look relieved. The older student wrote on the parchment, "squash it". Nob nodded. He carefully climbed onto the table and had his new roommate come closer. Then he swatted it with both hands. He opened his hands and a small green insect fell onto the table. Nob couldn't help but be amused. They were literally bugging the students.

"That's . . ."

The older student hit Nob's leg. When Nob looked down, the boy made a circling motion. Nob understood and looked around. His eyes bulged when he saw a second one. He pointed.

By this time, no one was talking. Everyone had their eyes on Nob. The girl he was pointing at gave him a frightened look as she walked over. Another bug landed on the table. Nob looked at everyone he could see. No one had an insect hovering over them.

"Nargles are invisible. That's why you can't see them."

"And you can?" the girl asked.

"And flying bugs, too."

Several older students were examining the insects. One of them explained that it's a simple way to listen in, provided you were skilled enough. Whoever did this was an expert to add an invisibility spell to them as well. One of the third year girls said the wards protected against things like that. One of the sixth year girls told her it did, but not anymore.

Nob was then introduce to everyone in the house. He also found another bug. This one over a black girl who was also a first year. Then he was confronted by Michael Corner and given an order. Examine every student in the Great Hall during the next meal. If need be he would walk around, using the excuse that he was going to talk to his brother. Let him know and they would corner those students when they had the chance. Then he smiled.

"Welcome to Ravenclaw. You belong here."

"Mike, how do I know if something is invisible without asking someone else if they see it too?"

* * *

Amycus Carrow smiled politely at Nob as the boy sat in his office with an idle look on his face. "Do you understand why I asked you to my office this late at night. It should have been obvious why those bugs were there. Every one of them was tracking a mudblood."

"I didn't see them before," Nob admitted. He assumed since Jared and Simon hadn't mentioned them, they must be a recent addition. "I thought they were just regular bugs, and once I found out that no one else could see them . . ."

"You could have said there were no more bugs."

"Oh. I didn't think of that. I mean, I may be eleven, but I got that age in only seven years. I still like to kill bugs."

Amycus made a note that he had something else to blame Malcolm for. All of that effort wasted. And only hours after getting the headmaster to agree. "Nob, how am I going to know what these . . . inferiors . . . are thinking, what they're planning."

Nob shrugged. "I can tell you. They hate you. And your sister. And Professor Snape. Except for all the third years, and even they're not one hundred percent sure about him any more. Look, you treat them all like they're dirt. Nobody likes being treated like that. Even if they do deserve it."

Amycus nodded appreciatively. "And do you know what they're planning on doing about it?" he asked hopefully.

"Nothing," Nob answered. "The Gryffindors are all waiting for the Chosen One to win, and the Ravenclaws are smart enough to know to keep their heads down because they won't win in a fight. And Slytherin's all purebloods."

"And what about Hufflepuff?"

Nob snorted. "Everyone else already treats the Hufflepuffs like they're dirt. They probably haven't noticed."

Amycus laughed politely. For all of his breeding, Nob was clearly naive. He would be honest, but the boy would not understand things properly for a few more years. He dismissed the smiling boy, confident that the disaster with the bugs was no great loss in the long run. As the boy turned away, his smile grew.

[_That was lots of fun. I should ask Nob to let me do this more often._

* * *

"Of course," Nob said when he was told about the conversation. "Now that you told me, it's obvious."

"What is?" Miriam asked. She was also a first year in Ravenclaw.

"I have the perfect excuse to act like a child." When she stared at him, he said, "I'll get you a back issue of the Daily Prophet."

"I'll explain it," Michael Corner told them. "First, find out who doesn't know. I'll tell everyone at the same time."

Malcolm smiled. "It was fun. And this is a great place. But I have to get back to my own house."

"Guards are out," Michael warned him. "Dewey's one of them but you may not run into him."

"Won't run into any of them," Malcolm told him. "All I need is an open window."

"Uh, Malcolm, didn't you take a Wizards Oath that you wouldn't change into an owl? An Unbreakable Oath? That will cause you to die if you break it?"

"Yeah," Malcolm said, and transformed into an owl.

"I'll open a window," Nob said as everyone stared. Malcolm flew out the window into the night.

"Nob?"

"Yeah, I can change, too."

"How did you break an Unbreakable Vow?"

"I had my fingers crossed. Malcolm cast an illusion spell so it looked like it worked. And I did the same for him. It was easy."

* * *

Voldemort was angry. "Where is he?" He demanded. "I have other work to do. I cannot come back here every time there is a problem."

Lucius Malfoy dared to answer the dark lord. "Master, my son, Draco, that is the one who thinks he is my son, owled me this morning. The Americans are claiming that David Winter resigned his position."

"I already know that."

"Yes, Master." Lucius looked pale but he continued. "They claim he retired to France, but my nephew told Draco that his friends in France know nothing about it."

Voldemort understood. David Winter was dead, and he died in an inconvenient manner. A loss but one he could deal with. The man had already done his work. The Americans would not get involved now, regardless of what would happen. And seeds had been planted for the future.

* * *

"Monsieur David Winter," the chief judge said. "We have evidence before us that you are not whom you say you are and that you in fact murdered the man whose place and name you took. Therefore, any claim of diplomatic immunity is invalid."

"This is a charade," David Winter shouted. "It is a mockery of justice."

"Wizarding law permits the capture of any thief by anyone anywhere as long as he is publicly tried. It permits the waver of the public trial for a private one if the matter is of 'a delicate nature' as you would say. We have permission of your government to try you in private as long as a representative of their government is present. And a representative has been present the entire time."

The judge pointed to the man sitting in the stands closest to the judges' platform.

David was livid. "Then why didn't the man announce himself."

"You don't know him?" the chief judge asked.

"I don't know everyone."

The American stood up. David knew at once it was someone he should have recognized. That he had made a serious error. The American spoke. "I assured the judges that there was no need. As David Winter had personally intervened to help me at several turning points in my life, he knew me intimately. I apologize to you, Sir, I should have made myself known in your case."

David thought as hard as he could. He still had one chance, a legal loophole. There was no evidence of a body. They could not prove that he murdered an American citizen. Therefore, the American government would have to insist on American rules of law for judgement. And he knew enough technicalities to, as Malcolm once phrased it, 'beat the rap'.

"I have stated, your honors," David said strongly, "that I have suffered some loss of memory as a result of the attack that killed my wife. You are now accusing me of killing myself. I must deny the charge."

"Prosecution is to call the witness," the chief judge ordered.

[_This is the part where I come in. I have to bring Dewey and Nob with me, but I also brought Hagrid._

Malcolm was summoned forward. He stepped into the witness box. He was asked about his relationship with the American government, if the reports of how he became eleven again were true, and what he knew about the death of David Winter.

"Um, that's kind of complicated."

[_How do I explain I met him after he died?_

"Did you see him die?"

"No, but I talked with him."

"Before he died?"

"No, um, after. Nob was there. He can verify it."

The judges started talking to each other as their case began to become a farce. But Holmes was whispering to the prosecutor. The prosecutor looked at him wide eyed, and motioned to petition the court.

"Your honors, I must make at this time an extraordinary motion. As only a prosecutor or defender may call a witness, I ask that Malcolm's brother, Nob, be made deputy prosecutor. The circumstances of magical bonds makes this necessary as he is the only person known to me who can call my next witness."

After a brief discussion, the judges agreed.

Nob was led to the prosecutor's desk and told what to say. Nob argued briefly as everyone watched eagerly to see what would happen. Nob adjusted his school robes and looked at the judges. "To answer important questions relating to this case, I summon Death."

Several of the spectators gasped in surprise, most were amused and David Winter laughed openly. The laughter died in his throat. A teenaged girl stood in the witness box. Long disheveled blond hair. Except for around her left ear where the hair was only an inch long. Strands of her hair had been dyed different colors but with no rhyme or reason. With one shoe and one sneaker on feet with torn stockings that disappeared beneath a ragged brown coat the color of dirt. She looked around with her two eyes, one blue and one green. Strange fish were swimming around her head. She was smiling.

"Oh, hi everybody."

She waved in a distracted manner to everyone in the room.

"Oh, hey. You must be Nob." She giggled. "You must be. You must be. You don't have a-a-any choice. Wow, nice place." She walked through the railings of the witness box as she approached Nob. Halfway there, she turned and walked toward a wall. A water fountain appeared and she took a drink. The water fountain walked away and faded when it reached the far corner. She turned around, walked toward Malcolm, and smiled at him. "You are adorable at this age." She made her way to Nob.

"Hi, Nob. Sis was really busy, you know. She had too . . . that one is my favorite fish . . . Anyway, I came. You belong to me. And I decided I wanted to. Your granddad asked me a favor. And it got passed down to you. Isn't that great? . . . See that fish. It's ugly." The fish became a seahorse.

[_I remember. The seven Incarnations. Death, Dream, Destiny, Destruction, Desire, Despair and her. She's Delirium. The incarnation of Madness._

Delirium turned to him. "I can hear you think. You think funny. And Destruction quit and went away. He was my favorite. He was always nice to me. He always brought me a present when he came to visit."

"I'm sure he's really nice," Malcolm agreed carefully.

"Yeah . . . Oh wait, I'm supposed to be talking to Nob." She turned back to the other twin. "So, Sis can't make it. So I came. You can ask me anything." Her eyes grew bright. The green one became blue but a different shade than the other one. The other one became vaguely yellow. "Yeah! Ask me anything!"

"Madame," the prosecutor dared to say, "a man's life hangs in the balance."

"Who cares? Nob wants to ask me a question. Nobody's asked me anything in ages, except what I'm doing."

She looked at Nob. A penetrating look that took in every aspect of the boy. Nob asked his question, nervously.

"What should I do?"

Everyone watched as the girl was suddenly kneeling next to Nob, pulling him into a hug. She whispered into his ear in a low tone that still carried to every corner of the courtroom. "If you tell the truth, you will be believed."

She was gone.

There was a pause. A lone fish swam away into one of the walls. As it disappeared, Reality hit everyone with a shock.

David Winter was staring at Nob. He knew that his life was forfeit. There would be no prison for him. Nob was looking at him. "He was a good man. His wife loved him so much she decided to die trying to avenge him rather that live without him. You're not him. You never were." A tear rolled down his cheek. "And I'm sorry you're going to die."

Hagrid led the boys from the courtroom and to the portkey that would take them back to a place where they could floo back to the headmaster's office. The entire trip there and back had taken less that two hours. And they would have to explain to the headmaster exactly what happened. At least, Dewey would.

[_He volunteered._

Once the judges were informed that the children had left, they asked the American representative if he had any objections. The chief justice declared the formal sentence of death. A French Auror stepped forward, a black hood over his face. He pointed his wand and called out, "Avada Kedavra."

The false David Winter fell dead.

"What happens to me now?" he asked.

"That is up to you," Death said as she grabbed him into her embrace.

* * *

"This is exciting," Watson said as they boarded the train. "In two hours, we will be in London. The capital of the Empire."

"Not in this world," Holmes said. "In this world they are a part of a great concert of Europe. Their empire died a century ago. But the marvels they have more than make up for it. It will be an interesting trip."

"And what are our plans in London?" Watson asked.

"What, indeed. We are resolving our problems one by one. David Winter has been laid to rest. The Grace twins are returned to their own world and their own time. Our task is done. I have shown Dewey all that I know, and explained how I made those deductions."

"But the Dark Lord," Watson insisted. "And Dewey's assassin."

Holmes sighed. "If I were a wizard, I would conduct the search myself. The assassin is hiding within the realm of magic and I can do nothing. As for the Dark Lord, even if I could do anything, I would not. That is in the hands of the Chosen One of their prophecy. We do nothing for our remaining time here except have an extended holiday."

"I've a marvelous idea, Holmes." Watson pointed to an advertisement for a travel agency. "Why don't we take one of those bus tours? I, for one, would love to see the differences between our two Englands."

"A short one, perhaps," Holmes said. "My worst fear is becoming bored. And I am not very good with holidays."


	18. Whiling Away The Time

**Chapter 18: Whiling Away the Time**

Severus Snape was working at his desk when he heard the tapping at the window. When he heard it again, he stood up to investigate. There was a tawny owl sitting on the window ledge. The owl transformed into Malcolm, standing dangerously balanced and holding precariously to the sides to keep himself from falling. Naturally, Malcolm was smiling.

"Can I come in?" Malcolm asked.

Severus opened the window at once and pushed him off the ledge. He closed the window and went back to work.

* * *

"We have to do something," Ginny insisted.

"I'm willing," Neville Longbottom admitted. "I'm tired of keeping a low profile. We need to have a demonstration of some sort."

"Are you crazy?" Draco said. "The Carrows are climbing the walls because everyone's so well behaved. Except Malcolm. And that drives them up the walls even more."

"And why are you here, again," Neville asked.

"He's really Reese pretending to be Draco," Luna explained.

"No," Draco corrected. "I'm Reese, but I really think I'm Draco."

"Then how do we know if you're really Draco?" Neville asked.

"You don't," Draco admitted. "That's what makes all of this so much fun."

There was a knock on the door to the seventh year boys dorm and Nob entered.

"Which one are you?" Neville asked.

Nob pointed to the Ravenclaw emblem on his robe. Neville pointed out that both of them had Ravenclaw robes. And Gryffindor robes. And they both could turn into owls, Neville added, despite making an Unbreakable Oath not to.

"Luna asked me to stop by if I had a chance," Nob said.

Neville nodded. That Luna would ask him was enough proof.

Nob hopped onto Ron Weasley's old bed and began jumping up and down. "These are softer than Ravenclaw. Can I come back here to sleep?"

"Sure. It just me," Neville told him. He glanced at Draco. "And sometimes Reese stays over."

Nob had a scared look but relaxed when he realized that Neville meant Draco. "Don't tell my mom, though. She'll send you a howler. She thinks I'm dating a girl."

"Golly," Ginny said in a terrible American accent, "where did she ever get that idea."

"We just wanted to dance because everyone else was. Dewey only did it for money."

"I only did it to annoy Potter," Draco added.

"I thought you were really Reese?" Neville asked.

"Sorry, Let me correct that statement. I only did it to annoy."

"Thank you. Ginny, what do you think we should do." Neville was smiling in anticipation. "We could protest in all the classes. That would get everyone's attention."

"No, you don't want attention," Draco insisted.

"Draco's right," Ginny added. "We don't want attention."

"OH," Neville said, as his anticipation increased. "I forgot I was talking to a Weasley. What is this plot about?"

"Plot?" Draco asked in surprise. "Ginny, what are you scheming about now?"

"Planning is a much nicer word," Luna said. "It makes things sound less dark. And we could use something to brighten things up. Don't you think?"

Draco stared. "You know about it already? And you agreed?" He cast a quick glance at Nob who had finally stopped jumping up and down and was just standing there on the bed. He asked Luna, "You invited him here to talk him into being the lookout. Didn't you?"

Luna looked confused. "If you already know, why are you asking?"

"DRACO," Ginny admonished. "We're trying to talk. I let you come because I thought you would be interested." She turned to Neville. "We're thinking about stealing Gryffindor's Sword."

Neville nodded. "I remember you telling me. Dumbledore had left it to Harry Potter."

Ginny nodded. "And you told me you had spotted Kreacher, Harry's house elf, in the kitchens. We steal the sword, take it to the kitchens, and order Kreacher to take it to his master."

"Won't work. You can't order a house elf that's not yours."

"Even for Harry?"

"If Harry didn't tell his house elf to listen to you, it won't. It doesn't matter if you're telling the truth or not."

"I can," Nob said.

Neville looked at the boy on the bed. "You can get a house elf to listen to you?"

"No, silly. I can deliver the sword. I'm an owl. All you have to do is address it to Harry Potter and I can find him."

"It won't work," Draco told them.

"Yes, it will," Nob insisted.

Draco smiled politely. "Are you telling me that, as an owl, you can lift twice your own weight and still fly?"

"I'd steal it anyway," Luna said. "Once we have it, we can decide what to do."

"I'm in," Neville said. "Anything to help Harry."

Draco was watching Ginny's face when Neville mentioned Potter. There was the barest flicker of her lip, as memories of the Gryffindor flashed through her mind. But he was here, and Potter wasn't. He needed to remind Ginny of that. "I'll do it, dear, because of you."

Ginny smiled, a grateful look, and rewarded Draco with a kiss.

"Yuck, they're doing it again," Nob noted.

* * *

"And how did you get the password?" Draco asked.

"A little birdie told me," Ginny answered.

"Could we be quiet?" Neville asked. "We are trying to sneak into the headmaster's office."

"No one's around," Ginny assured him. "The Carrows are in Hogsmeade having a secret discussion with some Death Eaters."

"Secret?" Draco asked.

Luna smiled. "They always have secret meetings every other Saturday."

"And Snape?"

"He went to his old office in the dungeons. Nob said he still does experiments occasionally, to keep in practice." Ginny smiled. "We have everything planned out. Nob is even keeping watch as we speak. And here we are."

The four stopped in front of the gargoyle.

"The office is empty," the gargoyle said.

"We'll wait for him inside," Ginny said.

"The password?"

"I hate Malcolm more than I hate Dewey."

The gargoyle leaped aside. The four stepped onto the revolving circular stairwell and rode to the top. They stepped off and walked over to the door to the headmaster's office. Ginny opened the door and went in. The others followed her as she walked over to the display case which held the sword of Godric Gryffindor. She pulled out her wand and said, "Alohamora." The case opened.

"You get an O for charms, Miss Weasley," Severus Snape said. He added sarcastically, "and please don't try to run. I know where to find all of you."

"You knew we were coming?" Draco asked.

Snape rubbed his chin. "Perhaps I will answer honestly. Yes and no. I knew someone was coming, but I didn't know who or why. That is why I waited, instead of stopping you at once." He smiled. "And now I get to punish the three of you."

"Excuse me, Professor," Luna said politely, "but there are four of us."

"Nonsense, girl. Why should I punish Draco when he was the one who helped me capture all of you when you tried to run."

"I wouldn't do that," Draco insisted.

"But Reese would. He'd think the whole thing was hilarious, getting his girlfriend in trouble. And it will help your reputation. At least with Crabbe and Goyle. They keep snickering at you behind your back."

Neville was confused. "Sir, why are you being so nice about all of this?"

"Because I'm having fun."

"Sir," Ginny dared to ask. "How did you find out?"

Severus laughed derisively. "A little birdie told me. Yes, it was Nob. And before you blame him, he never said a word. He landed outside my window in his owl form, I assume to watch me. When I noticed him, he suddenly turned from me and became very interested in the wall next to the window. I suppose he thought he was being clever."

"I think it was clever," Luna said. "For a seven year old."

Draco nodded. "He hasn't caught on yet how to be eleven."

"Regardless," Snape said sternly. "The point is, I opened the window, said 'good morning, little birdie,' then commented that is was such a nice day I would go to the dungeons for a few hours to work on some of my experiments. I closed the window and left the office, instructed the gargoyle what to say if anyone came, and came back up here. A small alarm woke me up from my nap when you gave the password."

"Very clever," Draco said. "And what's our punishment?"

"Yours is to cheerfully, and I do mean cheerfully, tell your fellow Slytherins what you did. If possible, even laugh when you tell them how you duped Ginny Weasley completely into trusting you."

"And us?" Ginny asked. "Subjects for the Carrows' lessons?"

"No. I have something better planned for you. I'm giving Professor Hagrid the task of going to the centaurs and trying to reach an understanding. I think they will find him more trustworthy is he were accompanied by three happy students." He handed Ginny a parchment to give to Hagrid. "Unless you wish to be test subjects. The seventh year Slytherins are eager for more practice."

"What if the centaurs decide to kill us?" Ginny asked angrily.

"Then that's just too bad," Snape snapped back. "You did sneak into my office with the intent to steal that sword. And even though it's obvious none of you touched it, I will still have to have it examined to make sure no harm has been done. If you want courtesy, I'll give you this. I'll tell everyone that you had managed to get it out of my office and were stopped on the stairs." He turned to Draco. "Escort them to Hagrid's hut. You know how to act with these blood traitors."

Draco nodded as he swallowed hard. He knew what would happen if he refused. Voldemort believed he was Reese and would kill him once he no longer had a need for a second Draco Malfoy. Snape was actually helping him by making him act the way he normally would, had Ginny not been present.

* * *

Hagrid was nervous as he walked up to the centaurs. So were the three students behind him. "Hullo, Bane."

"We're not going to kill you, Hagrid," Bane told him. "We are not inclined to murder people on behalf of our enemies. But if you could convince your headmaster to come and talk with us in person, we would be more than happy to talk with him."

"If I could, I would," Hagrid admitted.

Bane nodded. "You may stay in the forest as long as you think necessary, but do not return again without good cause."

The centaurs retreated into the trees and were soon gone. Hagrid wiped his brow and turned around to look at the three students. "Ye see, them centaurs ain't as bad as people say."

"They're smarter," Neville admitted. "They knew why we were sent here without having to ask."

* * *

"Hem, hem," Dolores Umbridge said as she walked into Francis's office.

"Deputy Minister, how nice to see you," Francis lied.

"I wanted to test you on what you said earlier. About being able to make people disappear." She walked with him over to the window that overlooked the interior of the mall. "All of these muggles. How disgusting."

Francis stood next to her, trying to sound calm and assured. "What kind of test?"

"Isn't it obvious? I want you to 'make someone disappear'." She pointed through the one-way mirror at a family of four that was walking along on the third level. "That boy is about the right age."

Francis saw her point at a boy about fourteen or fifteen. "Can't do it," Francis said with a hint of regret. "He's with his family. They'll notice. Unless we use magic, which we don't. We ARE squibs, my people and I. If I had a reason, I could separate them, but that would lead to questions. And THAT would lead to the muggle authorities and plenty of publicity. Which would destroy the entire purpose of the mall."

"That is too bad," Dolores said with a sinister voice.

"If it's a test, we'll wait until we get a suitable subject," Francis continued. "That will show you how we operate, and give you an understanding of how these things are accomplished."

This time, Dolores smiled. "You mean there is a method to the madness?"

"It's like operating a well executed plan. At best, the victims will walk in with everyone in place. By the time they know what's happening, it will be too late." Francis gave Umbridge his best smile. "Why don't you give me a day or two to set someone . . . something . . . up, Minister Umbridge."

"Please, call me Dolores. Francis, I will see you again in two days." She apparated directly from the office.

Francis was happy that he insisted on a private back door to his office. Something told him he would have days like this. He walked out of his office.

"Claire, my guest took the back way out since it was shorter to the food court. Is anyone else on my schedule?"

"No, Sir. You're clear for the rest of the afternoon."

"I'll be walking the mall then. Call me on my cell if anything comes up."

A walk down the stairs took him to the management office proper. He exited onto the third floor balcony and proceeded past the shops, smiling and greeting every employee he saw, calling those he remembered by name. He came to a candle shop and stepped in. It had become a habit.

"Francis," the clerk said, a tall black man, bald with a gold earring in one ear.

"Afternoon, Kingsley."

"You have a problem."

"And you can read minds."

"Not the deep thoughts, but even if I could not read at all I would know that this time you came needing help."

Francis examined the sculptured candles as he told of his recent conversation. He concluded by saying that his bragging finally got him into trouble. Kingsley was amused. He noted that there were a number of people who wandered the mall who would never be missed. The problem was not who to choose but what to do with them. They could not return if they were to 'disappear'. The fact that Umbridge deliberately picked a minor meant that the Ministry was beginning to do something about the children they didn't want. Adults could be sent to Azkaban, but the uproar if they sent children was something the Ministry didn't want to deal with. Yet.

Kingsley promised to keep his eyes open and berated Francis for not giving himself more time. He advised Francis to start working at once on what he was going to do.

* * *

Francis was standing by the window with Dolores Umbridge. She followed his directions as he pointed out the skinny blond boy, not even close to being in his teens, looking in the window of the sporting goods shop on the third level. "He likes to come up and look."

Kingsley did his homework. He found a likely candidate. A recent runaway who was beaten at home once too often. Parents reported him missing because they had to. He then planted the idea in the boy of visiting the new mall.

"See," Francis pointed out as security guards approached from either end. They confronted the boy and had him walking meekly with them before he understood what happened.

"He came easily."

"He had to," Francis explained. "He was accused of stealing. If he ran, they would catch him and that would prove he was guilty. He's cooperating because he still thinks he can talk his way out of it."

"Out of what?" Umbridge asked.

"Whatever," Francis said casually. "They'll bring him up here. And from here, he'll go . . . someplace . . . and never come back. And no one will find him regardless of how hard they look." He added as an after thought, "would you like to meet him?"

Umbridge snorted. "Not likely. But I do like the fact that he's so young. It shows that your people don't have those annoying scruples." She paused as though in thought. "I'll let you know when we need your assistance."

Francis nodded. "About this case? Would you like any proof?"

"Are you serious? I don't want any proof. I don't want there to be any evidence. Ever. Do I make myself clear?"

This time Francis smiled. It was almost a leer. "Yes. And you made my job much easier."

When Dolores apparated, she was smiling as well.

"Sir," one of the security guards said. "Here he is, like you asked."

The skinny boy was pushed into the room. Francis pointed to a chair, then turned to the guards. "Thanks, guys, and ask Claire to send some lunch in, burgers and fries should be fine."

"Fries?"

"Chips," Francis corrected himself. As they left, he closed the door and sat down at his desk. "Hi, we're interviewing people, like you, who would like to start a new life and pretend the past never happened."

The boy looked up in surprise. "I heard about people like you."

"You know about magic, then?"

"What?"

Francis deliberately took a cigar. He snapped his fingers and lit the cigar from the flame. He was smiling for two reasons. The first was the boy's reaction. The second was that Ralph the Shaman was wrong. It didn't take him ten years to learn that trick. It only took ten months. The hard part was learning to make the flame appear above his fingers and not on them.

"Magic," Francis repeated as he turned on the fan that would pull all of the smoke out of the room. "I know you can't do any magic. You're what we call a muggle. But that doesn't mean you can't live with magic. And we know quite a few wizards and witches who love children but haven't been blessed with any."

"Witches?"

"Any woman capable of magic is a witch. The sole exception is my grandmother. She a witch, and magic has nothing to do with it."

The boy smiled at the joke. "I got a mum like that," he admitted, then frowned as he said the wrong thing.

"We know," Francis admitted. The conversation paused as lunch was brought in. As the boy ate hungrily, the sales talk continued. "I've talked to a few people. The idea is to have you adopted by a childless couple, who can then spoil you rotten, either in France or in the States."

"Don't speak French," the boy said between mouthfuls.

"And you'll stay with my wife and me for a few days while we get the details sorted. If you're interested, that is. Nothing happens without your approval."

The boy was staring at the cigar and remembering how it was lit. "What's magic like?"

"For you, it's just something to watch other people do. Life will be easier in some ways, harder in others. For example, you'll go to a muggle school and have muggle friends. You may even have a few wizarding friends but they'll be learning magic and you won't have much in common. The hard part is that you can't tell anyone about magic."

"Why me?" the boy asked. "Why pick me?"

"The truth? You won't be missed. And you know it? We won't be taking you away from anything. We'll be giving you something you don't have."

"Could I see some more magic first?"

Francis smiled. "Nope. I'm what they call a squib. The fire trick is the only one I ever learned."

The boy looked down at the empty wrapper which held his first decent meal in days. He had nothing to lose. "I'm in."

"Great," Francis said. He would wait until he got home to worry about what to tell Piama. She wouldn't yell at him in front of company. After he told his secretary that he was taking the boy to the authorities, he slipped out the back way and down a secret passage which led to the Ministry level, but was separated so that no 'contamination' might occur. He walked to the fireplace, threw in some floo powder and said the name of his home. The flames flared green and, after careful assurances, the boy stepped in. Francis followed, to be greeted by a shriek.

Piama heard the noise and came running into the living room to see Francis holding a boy who was pointing at Timmy. Piama glared at Francis.

"What stupid problems have you brought home this time? I have enough problems of my own."

"It's a house elf, kid. A magic butler. Piama," Francis tried to smile. "I have a new problem. We're making people disappear. This is my test subject, uh, what's your name, kid?"

"Timmy," Piama said as she pointed at the boy. She looked at Francis. "If it's all right with his parents."

"Uh, yeah," the kid said.

"That's my name," Timmy said. As an afterthought, he twirled his fake mustache, which was silly as he was holding it in his other hand at the time.

"Hi," the kid said, "You know, I know magic is strange, but why do you want me to be . . . ," he pointed at the house elf, ". . . him?"

"Good question," Francis said.

"I goofed," Piama admitted. "And stop gloating."

"Sorry, how did you goof?"

"You know Mrs. Markham, my boss at Tesco's. She kind of knows about Timmy. I told her he was my son who was away at school. She heard me this morning talking on the phone, the snoop, and heard me ask Timmy if he was at home. She invited him to her son's birthday party. Tomorrow."

"Um."

Piama tried to glare. "You can't think of a good excuse, either. Can you?"

Francis pondered the problem. "I could have Malcolm fly over."

"He looks too old to be our son."

"Fly?" the kid asked.

"He's an owl," Timmy explained.

"How old are you?" Piama asked.

"Uh, nine," the kid said.

"Okay, it kills my reputation but you're officially our son for the next two days. Francis why is he so dirty?"

"He's a runaway. Kingsley said he has a good reason."

Piama turned back to the kid. "And your name is?"

"Timmy," the boy said quickly. "Um, could I just be Tim. It isn't as childish."

"No, I mean," Piama was letting her nervousness show. "Yeah, sure. Your name is Tim. Welcome to the family. Are you hungry?"

He pointed at Francis. "He bought me lunch before he brought me here."

"Good. Bathroom's upstairs on your right. We'll get you clothes while you clean up. And hurry. Mrs. Markham invited herself to dinner."

As the kid followed Timmy's lead, Francis looked at his wife. "Why the rush?"

"Assistant Manager gave his notice. I'm one of the contenders. She likes that I'm a minority. And a mother. She likes 'family people'."

Francis nodded. He may be running a shopping mall but it was a job made of straw. It could all blow up in his face at any time. Piama's job was real, and would still be there if things went bad.

"Timmy is back," Timmy said as he popped into the living room. He had Tim's clothes.

"You have clothes," Francis pointed out. He looked at Piama. "Doesn't that make him free?"

"No way," Piama said. "I told him that rule didn't apply to him unless I specifically told him he was free then handed him a piece of clothing . . . and if I didn't change my mind over the next two weeks. Then I ordered him to accept my conditions."

"And it worked?"

"Timmy can do laundry now," Timmy said proudly. He handed Francis a list. "Tim's sizes, like mistress asked."

"Don't call me mistress."

"Yes, Mistress. Like Piama asked."

Francis looked at the list. "I'm going back to the mall?"

Piama nodded. "And don't take too long."

* * *

"Malcolm?" Dennis called as he opened the door to the dorm room. "Phone call."

Everyone looked at Malcolm who simply shrugged. He followed Dennis to the common room and the fireplace. "Francis?"

"Malcolm. Great. I need a favor. Can you fly down here with your school uniform? You still have it, don't you?"

[_I'm wearing it. That would be a yes._

"My uniform?"

"Glen Levitt?" Francis asked.

"Yeah, it's in my trunk. Why do you need it?"

"I don't. And could you shrink it down to fit a nine-year-old kid who's kind of scrawny?"

"Malcolm?" Professor McGonagall asked as she made her way through the crowd of students. "Who are you talking to? And why does he need a Glen Levitt uniform?"

"Hold on, Francis. Professor, it's my brother. And I don't know."

McGonagall nodded and walked up to the fireplace. "Francis, I'm Professor McGonagall, the Head of House, I'll take care of it myself."

[_What?_

"Thanks. And I literally have to run."

The flames returned to normal.

"Professor?"

"Get your uniform, Malcolm. And NO, I won't explain anything." She looked around the common room. "Everyone here needs to make a choice. You can keep quiet about this and know you're helping people, or you can talk about this and give aid to those in charge of this school."

[_I hate this. Something's going on and I have no idea what it is. On the other hand, it's been like this since I first came here._

* * *

Tim, as he was now called, was clean and neatly dressed in an oversized bathrobe. He may not have been the brightest kid in the world but he was smart enough to refuse when the house elf insisted he wear a fake mustache. ("So Tim can play Timmy properly.")( Also, Francis was taking longer than expected.) He was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when the owl flew past the open window. It was carrying a package in its claws. Tim wasn't sure but he thought he saw the owl do a double take.

There was a knock at the door. The door opened. A boy walked in holding the package. He looked at Tim.

"Are you the reason I had to fly here?"

[_Yeah, he's the reason._

"Flew? I thought I saw an owl."

"Yeah, that was me. Where's Francis?"

"Malcolm?" Piama called from the kitchen. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, where's Francis?"

"He went to the mall to buy some clothes for Tim."

"I thought your house elf made his own clothes."

Piama stepped into the living room, laughing. "Not him." She pointed at the kid. "This is Tim. If anyone asks, he's our son, home from school for a weekend visit."

Tim smiled weakly as he waved.

"Welcome to the family."

Piama smiled at the kid. "Tim, this is your Uncle Malcolm. He goes to a school of magic. You can't tell anyone about him."

"Wicked? Can I talk about anyone in my family?"

Piama thought. "Well, your grandmother hates me, so you don't want to talk about her. Jamie is another Uncle. He's almost eight months old. There's not really much to talk about. Nob's . . . Malcolm, the two of you are twins, now?"

"Since the summer," Malcolm explained.

Tim raised his hand. "How do you become twins? I thought you had to be born that way."

"Malcolm?" Piama asked.

"It was Nob's fault," Malcolm explained. "Actually, Dewey's the one who talked him into it. You'd have to blame him."

"Can I talk about Nob or Dewey?" Tim asked.

"That's Uncle Nob or Uncle Dewey," Piama corrected. "And you'd better not. They go to magic school, too."

"There's Reese," Malcolm offered.

"Uncle Reese?" Tim asked.

"What ever happened to him?" Piama asked.

"He's living with the Malfoys pretending to be Draco."

"And what's Draco doing?"

"He's at school pretending he's Reese."

"Uncle Draco?" Tim asked. "Are they twins, too?"

"Draco's my cousin," Malcolm explained.

"And I don't talk about him either?"

The fireplace flared green and Francis stepped out with several packages.

[_He's the only one who can do that smoothly. He had, what? Eight bags? Anyone else, it would be stumble city._

"Hey, Malcolm. You made it. Do you want to stay for dinner?"

"Can't. I have to fly back to the school. It's bad enough I cheated getting here. I need to cheat going back, too. And McGonagall shrunk them to fit . . . Tim. Francis? Why do you and Piama have a, um, eight? . . ."

"Nine, almost ten," Tim supplied.

". . . a nine-year-old son?"

"Nosy neighbors. How's Dewey. I heard he got killed?"

"He's ticked off, I can tell. But he's getting over it. I think he's mad because he knows I'm the one doing it and he can't figure out why?"

"Why are you doing it?" Tim asked.

"I have no idea. I told Dewey I'd let him know if I figured it out." Malcolm waved goodbye as he set his package on a chair. Francis opened a window as Malcolm changed, closing it after the owl flew out. He then turned to his 'son'. Tim looked up at his 'father'.

"Now I know why you never talk about your family."


	19. Christmas Is Coming

**Chapter Nineteen: Christmas Is Coming**

"Lois?" Hal asked lovingly.

"I'd love to," Lois answered softly.

"WAAAH," Jamie said with irritation.

"I'll be back," Lois replied as she began walking to the nursery. She stopped halfway there when a house elf appeared in front of her.

"Timmy has been sent to help and cannot go back home for at least twenty-four hours."

"Can you change a baby?"

"Into what?"

"Ask Hal if he needs help. I'm busy."

* * *

"Timothy," Mrs. Markham said. "How do you like school?"

"I don't."

"I've heard Glen Levitt has a fine reputation. Why don't you like it?"

"It's a school."

"But . . ." Mrs. Markham stopped talking as she understood what the boy was saying. "Piama, dear, the food is wonderful."

"Sometimes I'm lucky when I cook. I'm glad this was one of the times."

"And I did want to ask. Your son is almost ten, but your application says you're twenty-one."

"In the States, all women are twenty-one. It's mandatory. I did it out of habit."

Francis grinned. "You'd be amazed at how many people believe her when she says it."

Piama squeezed his hand. "Mrs. Markham, please change the two to a three. That should clear everything up."

"But you look so young."

"Clean living," Francis said. "We met in Alaska, then moved to the Midwest before coming to England."

"And what exactly do you do, Francis?"

Francis couldn't help but brag. "I manage the Mid-London Mall."

"And you commute every day?"

"If I can. There's nothing worse than staying in town because I have to work late."

Mrs. Markham was impressed. "I'm surprised your wife needs to work."

"It's a new mall," Francis explained. "If it fails, Piama becomes the breadwinner."

"And it gives me something to do," Piama added.

Mrs. Markham was more than impressed. "A housewife, a mother and a business woman. How do you manage?"

"I make do."

The woman eyed Tim who was cutting his turkey. "I suppose going away to school relieves your mother of a lot of responsibility."

Tim paused. "Mum's always in control. She knows more about my school than I do."

"And," Mrs. Markham paused, "how is it you don't have an accent?"

"I used to. I lost it at school. Mum says I'm a chameleon."

Francis gave the boy a thumbs up when their guest wasn't looking.

"One more question, dear. Now that you're living here, don't you think it would be better for your son, and your family, if he went to the local school? I'm on the school board and I know we could offer him as good an education or better. And he would be living at home."

"Um," Piama said.

"Live here all the time? That sounds great!" Tim blurted out. He bowed his head when Piama and Francis both glared at him.

Piama quickly smiled. "It is something we could discuss. Maybe after Christmas?"

Mrs. Markham was pleased with herself. "You really should. And as my assistant, I can guarantee your schedule will give you plenty of time for family things."

The smile froze. "That does sound wonderful."

* * *

Professor McGonagall was eyeing everyone in the common room. "I need to know everyone who is staying for the Christmas holiday. Malcolm, I thought you were visiting your brother?"

"Only for Christmas day. He said he has a lot of work before the holidays."

[_For some stupid job at a mall. I bet he's a Christmas elf or something._

McGonagall nodded. "Charles? You're a ghost. You don't need to raise your hand."

"Sorry. I forget sometimes that it's not my school."

"Draco Malfoy? Why are you here? You should tell your own Head of House that you're staying for the holidays. Miss Weasley, are you staying? Then why don't you invite your boyfriend to meet your parents?" McGonagall smiled as Ginny blushed. "And who else is staying?"

The list of names was longer than it usually was. For most students with wizarding families, it was safer to stay. For muggle born children, it was less dangerous; none of them felt safe at Hogwarts. In the end, over half the house was staying for the holidays.

* * *

Kingsley Shacklebolt knocked at the door and Francis let him in at once. He smiled at the younger man as he quickly entered.

"I have a most interesting life. I am hiding directly above the Ministry of Magic, and I visit friends who live next to the most watched house in England. And why did you need me?"

"It's kind of weird. Tim won't tell us his real name so we can send him home, with, you know, changes to his family."

"Tim? You named him after your house elf? Francis, your family is strange, but that is taking it to a new level."

Francis explained what happened to Piama at work, the overheard phone call, the uninvited guest and the suggestion that her promotion depended on Tim going to the local school. Kingsley managed not to laugh and asked the obvious question.

"Why don't you keep him? No one will question you. And if they do, I can help you with that problem."

"Francis?" Piama asked. "He isn't going to do it?"

"Do what?" Kingsley asked.

Francis tried to smile. "We had this idea that you could go to his family and make everyone think they liked each other."

"I could, but I will not. That would be interference on a level which is not permitted. On the other hand, if you keep the boy . . ." Kingsley looked around at the Christmas decorations and the Christmas tree, ". . . I see. You are going to keep him."

"What?" Piama asked in surprise? "How can you say that? He's a nice kid but . . . I . . . don't . . . want . . . children."

Kingsley nodded. "And you hung four stockings on the fireplace because they looked nice? I suppose you've bought presents for him as well?" He paused. "You hung a stocking for your house elf?"

"Dang," Francis said. Now he felt three inches tall for asking the man to come here.

Piama noticed the look on his face. She turned to Kingsley. "They're in the closet in our bedroom." She had a defeated look.

This time Kingsley did laugh. The couple looked like they had suffered a major catastrophe. "He will need school records. I know the man to ask." He looked at his watch. "And I need to hurry back to London. With luck, I can send a message before I have to get back to work. Those decorative candles are very popular holiday gifts. We are quite busy."

With another laugh, Kingsley saw himself to the door. Francis and Piama looked at each other. They didn't have to say a word. Francis called out, "TIM".

Tim popped into the room with Timmy. Both were wearing fake mustaches. They were grinning wildly. Piama groaned while Francis rolled his eyes.

"Tim, you start school after the holiday." Tim's eyes lit up. That meant they decided he could stay permanently. He rushed forward, and surprised everyone by hugging Piama.

* * *

"Why can't we stop them?" Nob wanted to know. "They're going to take her and do terrible things to her."

"It has to happen," Dewey insisted. "It's in the book of prophecy."

"Yeah, dummy," Malcolm added. "If they don't take Luna hostage, then her dad won't try to stall Potter by telling him about the Deathly Hallows (TM). And then he won't find Luna or any of those other things. And You-Know-Who will win. At least we know she'll be alright."

[_I wish I'd never read that book. Dobby wants to know why I get that sad look every time he visits from the kitchen._

* * *

"Are you ready?" Malcolm asked.

"Why can't we fly?" Nob asked. "I hate using the fireplace."

Dewey sighed. "It's faster. It's safer. And I'm telling you to."

"You're not the boss of me," Nob insisted, then followed that statement by a well meant, "OWWW!"

[_We're all agreed. The fireplace._

"Are we ready?" McGonagall asked.

"Waiting for Draco," Dewey admitted. "He wants to look his best for the holiday."

McGonagall frowned. "I forgot. Your brother is the neighbor to the Weasley's. Malcolm, you are close to Ginny. Why Draco? She seemed to dote on Harry Potter."

"She told me that Harry dumped her, didn't want her to get hurt or something. Draco told her he'd stick by her, whatever happens."

McGonagall nodded. "And what happens if the Chosen One succeeds in his task? He's sure to turn his eyes toward Ginny Weasley again."

"WHEN he succeeds," Malcolm noted.

"Thank you for correcting me. And what will happen?"

"I don't know but it'll be fun to watch."

There was a knock at the door to the common room. The fat lady could be heard yelling at someone to stop hitting her. That someone, Draco, was yelling back that she should get a door knocker or something.

"What's that word mean?" Nob asked.

Dewey looked down. "The one that begins with F?"

"I know that one. What's protuberance mean? He said she had a gross protuberance instead of a . . ."

"Yeah, it's a fancy word meaning her head is just an ugly bump."

Nob shrugged. "And why did you call flaming the F word? I thought the F-word was . . ."

"You know," Malcolm said to quickly change the subject, "I once got in trouble as a Krelboyne for using the R-word."

Dewey laughed. "You're joking? They complained about that?"

"It was Dabney's mom."

The three started laughing, as McGonagall came back with Draco. "You're all jolly enough. Here's the floo powder. And, Nob," McGonagall lowered her voice to a whisper, "Is Dennis Creevey in the room?"

"He's holding on to his brother. Malcolm invited them. Why are we whispering?"

[_I don't believe it. Nob's snitching. Now we have to use plan B._

Malcolm made a motion for Dennis and Colin to slip back up the stairs. He then said, "I forgot. Draco, did you get hold of the Creevey's."

"They're muggles, but yes," Draco said on cue. His look told Malcolm he expected this to happen. "They agreed. But their reply only came back to me last night." He looked at McGonagall. "Slipping a message to someone is not easy, even if you have connections."

Professor McGonagall took the envelope and read the paper inside. "If they have permission to go, then why are they hiding in the common room under an invisibility spell?"

"What are you talking about?" Malcolm asked.

Dennis came running down the stairs and laughed. "You haven't left yet. Are we going?"

McGonagall glared at Dennis as Colin walked down the staircase from the dorms. "Dennis, they would let us know. They need our parents' approval. And you know how things are."

"I am tempted to confine all of you to your rooms for the rest of the holidays." McGonagall insisted. "I know you, Malcolm. I would bet every last Galleon I own that this letter is a forgery. However . . ."

[_Dennis is cheering and if Colin's grin was any larger, his head would fall off._

" . . . it's Christmas Eve. Off with all of you. NOW."

* * *

"Who's he?" Nob asked.

"That's Tim," Malcolm explained. "Francis shows him to people when they ask about the house elf."

Colin asked the next question. "Why does your brother accept that as a normal answer?"

[_What's Colin talking about? That was a normal answer._

Meanwhile, Tim was asking Dennis which uncle he was. Timmy was asking everyone is they would like some refreshments. Francis was asking Timmy to wait until they said yes instead of forcing a glass into their hands. Piama was asking what happened to Draco.

* * *

"It's dangerous," Molly said as they walked past the wards.

"It's Christmas Eve," Arthur said. "Dewey assured me we'd be safe. And it's only for a short visit."

Molly nodded. She was aware of how much Dewey was trusted by "those people". Still, she was nervous. Everyone's hand on her clock had pointed at mortal peril for over a month. Even Percy's. "Ginny, keep up. Oh, Arthur," she added in disgust. "HE's here."

Arthur smiled. "And which HE is he, Ginny?"

"And to think," Molly muttered, "I tried to keep you away from Harry. What do you see im him, dear."

"Mum," Ginny said with embarrassment. "I told you what Draco said. He's afraid for his life, just like the rest of us. And Harry told me to forget about him." She looked at her mother. "Please?"

"It's not my house." Molly said. For her, that was a major concession. For Ginny, it was all she needed. She ran up the few steps to the porch where Draco was standing and waiting. Draco smiled and pointed upward. A sprig of mistletoe. Fully aware that they were being watched, they gave each other what was probably the smallest kiss possibly.

Molly gave a terse smile which showed she approved. That they made it the smallest kiss possible. As Draco led Ginny to the door, Arthur pointed up when he and Molly reached the same spot. Nob opened the door at that moment to look for Draco. He turned to Ginny and said, "now I know where you get it from."

* * *

"And you're Tim?" Arthur asked.

"Are you a relative? I have to ask."

"I'm the neighbor."

"Any kids?" came the hopeful question.

Arthur pointed out Ginny. "She's the youngest. Why so glum? You'll make friends."

"Yeah, but I can't talk about any of this to them, or share things. I found a box of old books, Uncle Dewey said they were his. They're great, but I can't show them to anyone. And nobody wants a friend who keeps secrets."

"Don't worry," Arthur assured him. "It's not much of a secret, really. And when you go to school, you'll have plenty of friends to talk to."

"I start school after the holiday."

Arthur paused. "Don't worry, then. Be yourself. That is how you make real friends. And don't worry about what you can't talk about. You'll find so many things you can talk about that it won't matter." He smiled because the boy was smiling. An added word that, once things settled, he could visit a 'magic' house and see how little a difference there really was, was all Tim needed for his worries to vanish. It was going to be a wonderful Christmas.

Arthur did comment, later, that the boy didn't seem to miss his old family at all. By then, Kingsley had come by to visit. (He brought candles as presents.) He assured Arthur that everything was normal, that he had 'helped speed things along' as far as the boy learning to adjust. Arthur gave him a curious look, and Kingsley nodded. Everything that was done was done for the best.

That was when the fireplace flared.

Francis immediately looked for Dewey. Dewey's reaction to his stare told him that he knew nothing. Molly was already calling for Arthur and telling everyone that it was the wards; they had set it up so that the fireplace would relay the warning.

Malcolm ran to the window and threw it open. He jumped completely out before he had finished changing. Nob, eager to be involved, followed him out of the window. He was the one that came back a few minutes later.

"It's those watchdogs. I think they're drunk. They're harassing some locals."

Kingsley grabbed Arthur's arm and reminded him. "We can not do anything. I am hunted and you need to think of your family."

Dennis, standing near enough to hear, said, "Well, I'm a stinking mudblood, so I can do whatever I want. Nob, can you lead the way?"

Dennis disappeared, but Nob opened the door and patted someone on the back. He then looked around and said, "I wish you could see this." He closed the door behind him.

* * *

"C'mon, dearie," the drunken man said as he waved his wand about. "Sing us a Christmas Carol."

The teenage girl was crying as she looked down from where she was floating ten feet above the man. Her boyfriend has frozen in place. Suddenly, the drunk went flying through the air. When he landed, he raised his head slightly, then passed out. As his friend stared, his wand wavered and the girl fell . . . one foot . . . then disappeared.

Suddenly, the girl reappeared, but the second man ignored her. He was concentrating on the griffin she was sitting on. And the young lady had stopped screaming. Through her shock, she understood that the monster she was astride was one of the good guys, and she should hang on for all she was worth.

The griffin, with a swift movement of its head, bit the man's wand in two before he could react. It then grabbed the man's shoulder's with both claws and flew into the air. Once it was high enough it dropped the man, fifty feet above a freezing river. Not enough to kill, but enough to put him out of action for a while. It flew back to where the young man was frozen, and landed.

The young lady dismounted carefully, giving a nervous thank you. She smiled when the griffin backed away slightly so he had room and then bowed to her. But her surprises were not over. A tawny owl flew down, transforming into a boy six or seven years younger than she was. He also had a wand. He waved it at her boyfriend while saying some magic words. The young couple embraced at once, happy at their fortunate escape.

"Excuse me," Malcolm said. The couple looked at him. "I'm sorry about what happened, but they were always troublemakers and things got out of hand. And, you should know that you're not supposed to know about magic."

The girl giggled. "I promise, I won't tell." Her boyfriend added, "We'll be called crazy if we do. But thanks for coming by with your pet."

"Pet?" Malcolm asked as he looked around. He stared at the griffin and winked. Turning back, he answered, "My master says you're welcome." As the griffin disappeared, Malcolm transformed into an owl and flew away.

The young couple began walking back into town. As they passed the unconscious drunk, the girl took the man's wand. When her boyfriend nodded, she broke it in two. The pieces were thrown into a nearby creek as they walked over the bridge. They never told anyone what happened.

* * *

Malcolm, aged fifteen, watched the attack of the griffin with interest. He was disappointed that Dewey was not the one to accompany the beast. Not that he expected such a creature to appear. And the boy: either his younger self or the twin. He was an animagus. That made him more of a curiosity. He hesitated, but the boy was not his intended target. Factor in that he was accompanied by a griffin which could make itself invisible, attack was not a viable option.

With regret, he abandoned his plan. Dewey could be dealt with at a later date.

[_On the other hand, one well placed explosion will get rid of two people, and to hell with the collateral damage._

Malcolm flew his broom as quickly as he could to David Winter's former house. He smiled. It would be so easy. He pulled out his wand and began to fly lower. As he neared treetop level, the front door flew open. A black man was there, wand drawn, looking wildly about. A white couple, middle aged, followed on his heels. Moments later, the black man cast a spell. Then he pointed in Malcolm's direction. With great discretion, Malcolm chose to fly away as quickly as possible.

[_I should have known. They would have wards up, just in case._

Malcolm flew quickly to his next spot. He had to be careful and bide his time for a while. But he would be ready when Harry Potter came to the Forest of Dean. And then he would be the one to hold Gryffindor's sword.

* * *

"A feint?" Arthur asked.

"It is likely," Kingsley said with a look at Francis. "But they have no reason that I know of."

Everyone was now looking at Francis. Francis responded by looking at Dewey. Dewey nodded. Francis turned back to Kingsley.

"There's someone out there who's trying to kill Dewey. I think he didn't expect us to have any protection."

The door opened and Dennis, Nob and Malcolm walked back in. Dennis called out, "You missed all the fun."

[_No. We didn't._

"Francis, what happened?" Malcolm asked.

"We had a visitor. He didn't stay."

[_It must have been me. But why am I doing this?_

"Cool. Let's get back to partying."

Tim was looking at Draco. "Visitor?"

"Nobody told you about the war?" Draco asked.

"I wouldn't worry," Ginny told the boy. "You saw what happened."

"I didn't see anything," Tim complained.

"Exactly. This place is too well protected." She glanced over at the house elf. "And Timmy isn't worried so you shouldn't be."

"Yeah," Tim said with a sense of relief.

"Can I ask a question?" Draco asked. "How is it that Francis is your father, when he would have been your age when you were born?"

Tim glanced at the house elf. "Timmy isn't worried about it."

"Definitely related," Ginny said.

"Not necessarily," Draco countered. "I have it on good authority that Malcolm is contagious."

"Prove it?"

Draco smiled. "Your parents hate me. They despise me. They loathe me. Right?"

Ginny smirked. "Yes to all three."

"MRS. WEASLEY," Draco called out. He pointed upward at a sprig of mistletoe. "MAY I?"

Molly gave an impish smirk and indicated with her two fingers it should be a small one. Draco gave her a grateful smile and then gave Ginny a quick kiss. "And I did that with her permission, I should note," he said proudly.

Tim looked up. "Is that because you're pretending to be Uncle Reese?"

* * *

It was time to go, Arthur explained, as he said his goodbyes to everyone. He thanked Francis for the excellent dinner, and Kingsley for the decorative candle. He also asked Draco to walk with them outside for a private conversation. Draco agreed, even though Arthur had called him Reese. Once outside and on the porch, Arthur drew his wand.

"Excuse me, I just need to cancel a spell before we can go home." He pointed the wand at Draco. "Finite Incantatum."

"Dear?" Molly said as she stared at Draco because he was still Draco.

"I had my suspicions." Arthur said tersely. "And Ginny, by your reaction it is obvious you knew about this."

"You knew?" Molly's voice suddenly held anger. "You knew he was the real Draco Malfoy, and you helped him carry on this charade?"

Ginny hesitated. "Yes."

"YES?" Molly didn't even notice when the front door opened and people began coming out. "YOU KNEW HE WAS THE REAL DRACO MALFOY?"

"You may want to be quiet," Francis said as he interrupted. "If anyone heard you, both Draco and Reese will be dead, and maybe a few others."

"Yeah," Dewey added, "They may decide none of us are worth it."

Molly nodded. "I do apologize for the possibility that I may have put MOST of you in danger. Ginny, we will discuss this once we get home."

"No," Ginny insisted. "We discuss it now or we take Draco with us."

Molly began to lose her temper but Arthur grabbed her arm. "That is an excellent idea. We have a great deal to discuss with Mister Malfoy."

Draco swallowed hard but nodded. And a glare from Mrs. Weasley told him not to even try to take Ginny's hand. As they turned to go, Malcolm called out, "Draco, catch." Draco turned around as Malcolm tossed him a small orb that looked like a silver snitch. Arthur Weasley asked what the thing was, and gave a surprised look when Nob told him. As he put away his wand, his wife muttered that the whole family tree is filled with nuts. All Draco knew was that he was going to have an interesting conversation.

And it was. Draco held the orb for the entire time. He related how Ginny found him in his brother's hospital room. The true story behind the Christmas party at the Longbottom's. He even explained how he was responsible for poisoning their son. And, more important, he explained why. Two things were obvious from the conversation. He detested Harry Potter. And he loved Ginny so much he would rather see her married to Potter if that would make her happier.

He also explained that his parents had two choices. To support Voldemort or to die. And they weren't doing very well on the support part. The most significant thing he told them was the incident with Voldemort on Halloween. The suspicious looks faded when Ginny took the orb from his hand and told them that it was true. Then Molly asked the one question that Draco was hoping she would never ask. And she asked it to Ginny.

"What will you do when Harry Potter returns?"

Draco watched as the telltale look returned to Ginny's face. He could not banish the look this time with a simple caress of her hand. This time he had to wait while she thought out the answer. She was still holding the orb.

"I don't know."

"Do you love Harry Potter?" Arthur asked.

"Yes," Ginny admitted as a tear ran down her cheek.

"Then you don't really like Draco Malfoy?"

The tears flowed freely as Ginny shook her head. "I do love him, Dad. I love Draco Malfoy."

Arthur and Molly stared at each other. Then Molly turned to Draco. "If I tell you to stay away from my daughter, will you?"

Draco deliberately took the orb from Ginny. "Yes."

"And if I permit you to continue to see her, will you treat her as a proper young lady."

Draco smiled. Inside he was jumping up and down. He still had a chance to win Ginny heart completely. As for answering the question, Draco couldn't help himself. "I would like to answer that question as honestly as your husband would have, had he been asked by your father."

"That proves it," Arthur said. "He's still a Malfoy."

After Draco left and Ginny had excused herself, Molly gave her husband a stern look.

"I know you don't approve of him, Molly."

"I don't know what to think of him. Harry is impetuous, but you always know which side he's on."

"And Draco's family," Arthur nodded toward the house next door, "has the habit of appearing to be whatever anyone thinks of them. He was honest with us about too many things. I believe he does love our daughter and would do anything THAT SHE APPROVED OF to win her heart. I know exactly how he feels."

"And you would like him as your son-in-law some day?"

"If he is Ginny's choice, I won't object."

"But?" Molly asked.

Arthur smiled. "I would rather it be Harry."

Molly smiled at those words, but the smile faded.

"He said he despised HIM."

"With that truth ball in his hand," Arthur noted. "And he did point out that, once you become his servant you can only leave his service one way." He hugged Molly. "That boy may not live long enough to be a proper suitor. And I think Ginny knows it."

"I think they both know it," Molly agreed.

* * *

"And the last gift," Francis said, "is for Timmy."

The house elf happily ran up to Francis and took the large box. He hastily tore the wrapping off and opened the box. He looked up in delight and gave Francis a joyful thank you. Then he closed the box.

"Timmy," Tim asked, wearing his brand new Arsenal sweatshirt, "Don't you want to show us what it is?"

Timmy hesitated, then opened the box again. He reached inside and pulled out a candle in the shape of a unicorn rearing on its hind legs. The wick was at the end of its horn. He added excitedly, "Timmy has never received a completely useless gift before. He will treasure it always." He decided to leave the box and apparated with the candle directly to his room.

"That was a great idea, Francis," Malcolm admitted. "Opening the gifts at midnight."

"It was Piama's idea. She got tired of looking at all the gifts and not being able to open them. It was the best compromise I could come up with."

Draco, also wearing an Arsenal sweatshirt, had to comment on the number of football related gifts. Francis smiled. He admitted that all mall employees got a twenty-five Percent Discount at the Sports Shop.

[_Yeah, he may be a janitor or something, but he knows how to shop. And I bet Piama earns more than he does. Now that she's the Assistant Manager at her store._


	20. The Forest Of Dean

**Chapter 20: The Forest of Dean**

Ron Weasley apparated to where the ball of light led him. He recognized the area, but he knew he might have a long wait. He settled down to rest in hope that, this time, he would finally be reunited with his friends. At least he knew where he was. Despite the tents being gone, he was in a place he had been before. When he attended the World Quidditch Championships.

It was still dark when Ron heard a noise. He may have been asleep for a few seconds or several hours; he had no way of knowing. He looked around him, grateful for the full moon which gave plenty of light. And plenty of shadows, too, he had to admit. He saw nothing. Carefully, he examined the trees in front of him after he thought he saw movement. There was nothing to see. Then there was a flicker, and Ron knew where to look.

He turned his head slightly to the left and stared as hard as he could at the low branch of a tree some thirty feet away. And he could barely make out the outline. It was an owl. The flicker happened again. It was the owl stretching its wings briefly. And one wing left the edge of shadow and shown under the moonlight. A light brown color. It took Ron only a few seconds to remember which owl he knew had feathers of that color.

"Malcolm?" Ron called out. "What are you doing here?"

An expletive came from half the distance between him and the owl. And suddenly Malcolm was standing in that spot. But not the Malcolm who attended the wedding of his brother. This Malcolm was still old enough to be a fifth year student.

"How did you know I was here?" Malcolm asked. He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"You're supposed to be eleven."

[_Yeah, that idiot kid with the twin brother. Well, I talked my way out of this once before._

"That is me, or was me," Malcolm said with a laugh. "Five years ago. For me, that is."

Ron smiled at a thought. "Did you have another accident?"

Malcolm returned the smile. "It was deliberate this time. Going back in time is not the easiest thing to do."

Ron was amazed. The future? Then he knew how the war ended. "I need to know. About . . . everything."

"We don't have enough time for that, Ron. I will tell you a few things if you like."

"Do we win? Do we defeat . . ."

Malcolm nodded. "You do, as long as you keep trying with all your might. It is going to be close." He paused for emphasis. "Very close. And I don't think it will end in any way you'd expect. And I don't want to tell you too much. For obvious reasons."

[_I need you to save Potter so I can get that stupid sword._

Ron nodded. This being Malcolm, he was naturally suspicious of him. "And why are you here? To watch?"

"I wish. Ron, I'm not the only one who came back in time. I'm only one of several people. We're trying to find my brother." He paused for just long enough.

[_This will turn the tables on the little runt if he tries making contact._

"I know he was your friend, but . . . you do know he was in Slytherin. In the end, he decided the war should have ended differently. And right now is an excellent time to change the future."

[_At least I think so. And all I'm really doing is destroying a prophecy._

"Dewey wouldn't do anything to hurt me," Ron insisted.

"He doesn't have to," Malcolm told him. "What you do tonight will have a great influence on how this war turns out. All Dewey has to do is get you to do things differently. My guess is that he'll distract you at the point that you would have spotted Harry Potter." He saw Ron look around. "There's still time. At least another hour. I'll warn you if need be."

Malcolm picked up his cloak and began to cover himself until only his head was visible. He asked Ron if he had no objections. After all, the point was to make Dewey reveal himself. As a final note, Malcolm told Ron that Dewey may have come already and spotted him, which meant there would be no problems . . . for Ron.

A popping noise from the shadows. Then a familiar voice cried out, "I'm already here, brother."

Dewey stepped out of the shadows on Ron's right side, his wand drawn. Ron was surprised for three reasons. The least reason was that Dewey had let his hair grow. As long as Ron had known him, the boy had a perennial crew cut. The second reason was that Dewey was the same age that he was now, which meant he was not from the future. The third surprise was that Dewey was concentrating on Malcolm and ignoring Ron's presence as though he wasn't important.

"Don't try anything," Dewey warned.

Malcolm, his body hidden by the cloak, made an intricate step while trying to keep his head still. He disappeared from where he was to reappear close behind Ron. A second later, his wand was at Ron's throat. He hissed a threat to Ron, then ordered Dewey to drop his wand.

"Malcolm, he's innocent. You won't hurt him."

"I don't want to, unless you make me."

Dewey took a step and apparated. He appeared suddenly behind Malcolm who pushed Ron away, stunning him with a quick curse. Then Malcolm was gone. He appeared ten feet to Dewey's right, his wand raised. A red flame burst from his wand, a curse, and passed through the spot where Dewey was as the younger boy apparated. Ron kept low to the ground as he recovered, watching the two brothers appear and disappear with surprising skill. At least a half dozen times he thought one or the other had won but they seemed to know what each other was planning.

The fight was waged throughout the forest. At one point, Ron could hardly hear them. But they always seemed to return to where he was. Each must have apparated three or four dozen times. Maybe more. Such a thing was unheard of as far as Ron knew, much less to be done by two boys, neither of whom was legally old enough.

The end came suddenly. Malcolm had apparated near Ron and reached down to grab something as he shouted a curse. A returning curse answered him from a completely different direction. Malcolm vanished. He reappeared directly behind Dewey, under the tree where Ron had thought he had seen an owl. Malcolm's hand swung hard as Dewey started to take a step. There was the sound of wood hitting bone and Dewey fell to one knee as Malcolm threw a piece of wood from his left hand.

[_It ends now._

Malcolm took a step back, his wand pointed at his brother. Dewey, still in a daze from the blow, staggered as he tried to stand up. Malcolm began to call out the killing curse.

"Avada Ked-"

"Expelliarmus," Ron called out, and caught Malcolm's wand as it flew through the air.

As the wand left Malcolm's hand, two tawny owls flying toward the scene transformed into twin boys of eleven, their bodies slamming into Malcolm and knocking him to the ground. They jumped off him and one of the twins pulled out his wand. "Petrificus Totalus."

"I don't think you said it properly," the other twin said.

"Who cares, Malcolm. It worked. Would you like me to remove the spell so you can do it better?"

"I think it's fine," Dewey said as he stood up, rubbing his head. He walked over to Malcolm, holding out his hand. "Thanks. I do appreciate your help. It was unexpected and at exactly the right time." He shook hands and turned to the other twin. "And you must be Nob. I'm happy to meet you."

"Ditto," Nob said as they shook hands. "You look tired."

"Exhausted. Don't do what I just did unless your life depends on it." Dewey turned away from the twins. "Or the life of a friend." He smiled weakly. In a voice with too much emotion, he said, "Hello, Ron."

"Dewey?"

At Ron' insistence, the four of them sat down, Dewey's back to a tree so he could rest more easily. In the cold air, he was still sweating, although he said he would be fine. Ron handed him a flask with water and a small amount of cheese, apologizing that it was all he had. Dewey took them eagerly. He tried to return the flask to Ron and smiled when he was told to keep it. Ron smiled back and then asked his first question.

"Why are you wearing Gryffindor robes?"

Dewey laughed. It was weak, but there was a hint in it of strength returning. "Because I'm in Gryffindor. I still remember you being the first one to congratulate me when I sat down at the table."

Dewey's voice turned serious. "Ron, Malcolm and Nob already know about the other Malcolm, and they've figured me out by now, but you deserve an explanation. I can't tell you everything, there isn't enough time, but I can tell you enough to understand."

Dewey didn't try to explain about different worlds, he told Ron to accept it, that Malcolm could fill him in on the details later. And Dewey was from one of those worlds. It was similar to Ron's world but also different. The first war ended later in his world, but the Dark Lord's return occurred at about the same time. Ron wanted to know about the people he knew, but Dewey shook his head. His world was worse off. The only things he could tell him would be about who was dead and who was not. Dewey smiled slightly as he said that they were better off in one respect. Their second war was already over. It was short but it was also vicious.

"And why do you have an English accent?" Nob asked.

Dewey laughed. "That's easy to explain. My folks died shortly after I was born. Murdered. HE was already reaching beyond England's borders. He chose them and their family as an example. Malcolm and I were the only ones to survive. Malcolm remembers what happened. He was old enough. It ate at him. And he hated what happened afterward, the way we were shuttled about from one relative to the next, always being told it was for our own good, and knowing no one wanted to be stuck with us. It turned out we had relatives in England. And we were still living there when Malcolm turned eleven. That's why he received a letter to Hogwarts."

Dewey explained how his brother changed as the rumors began to spread about Voldemort's return. Malcolm became obsessed with the need to be in control. He had to know everything. And he broke half the wizarding laws by teaching everything he knew to his brother. When Voldemort was restored to his body, Dewey was already at Hogwarts. He had no time accident in his world. He was actually a year younger than the Dewey Ron knew. But Malcolm . . . Malcolm was a genius. He discovered something that no one had imagined. How to travel between worlds. He decided he would find a world where the Dark Lord had already been defeated, then return to his own world with the knowledge of how it was done. He would be the savior and in his madness he believed everyone would automatically listen to him. But before he could find such a world, the war was over. Voldemort was vanquished and everyone was praising someone other than Malcolm.

That was when Malcolm decided to change his plans. Instead of finding a world where the war had already ended, he would find one where it was still going on. And he would finish it for them. He would be in control. But now he was no longer a hero. He was no longer sane.

"And I had to follow him," Dewey admitted. "He had shared every secret with me, including how to cross between worlds. I followed him to stop him. And I did." He looked at all three of them. "With help."

"Anything for a friend," Ron said. A pause. "And why me?" Ron asked. "Why did he come after me?"

Dewey smiled. "Tonight, you're going to prove that you belong in Gryffindor. Tonight, you're going to prove to someone exactly how good a friend you are." His eyes lowered. "Not like my Ron did, though."

"He failed you?" Ron asked in surprise. "How?"

Dewey's hand was raised to stop Ron from speaking. And tears were on his cheeks. "You didn't fail me, Ron. You died. Protecting me. You saved my life."

Ron didn't know how it happened, but Dewey was suddenly hugging him and saying that he never thought they'd meet again. When Dewey recovered, he stood up.

"It's almost time, Ron. We have to go. Good luck."

"Wait," Ron said, "I need to know. What was I protecting you from? Where was Harry?"

Dewey debated internally. Then he came to a decision. "Ron, I told you. Things happened differently in my world. I was trying to get through its protective field to kill the snake, Nagini. I needed just a little more time but the Death Eaters were closing in. You bought me those precious minutes. And with the snake dead, the rest was easy."

Ron's eyes widened with a sudden thought. He brought his hand up to Dewey's forehead and pushed his long hair aside, revealing a familiar scar.

Dewey gave him a faint smile. "I have to go. I have to take Malcolm back." His smile faded. "It's time. Everyone, be quiet."

They waited patiently for what most of them knew would happen. Ron spotted Harry Potter walking through the trees. He started to follow, then turned back to Dewey to give him a smile and a wave goodbye. He knew he held a valuable secret, and that it must remain a secret. Even from the people he trusted the most. He never told anyone what happened until everything was over.

* * *

"Took them long enough," Malcolm said, after they watched Ron and Harry return to their tent.

"Good deeds take time," Dewey explained. "They don't happen on the sly."

"How observant," Severus Snape said as he came out of the shadows. "And silencing spells don't automatically appear around someone's tent to hide the fact that a minor war has broken out." He walked up to Dewey. "And you are another visitor, I assume. How is it you are so mature at a younger age, when your brothers are all idiots."

Dewey stared. "Who are you? Are you Severus Snape?"

Severus paused. "Malcolm. Did you bring him or . . ."

"He came on his own. He was following me." Malcolm pointed at the body lying frozen in place on the ground. "Him me that is."

"Show him," Nob said eagerly. "Show him the scar."

"NOB," Malcolm said with irritation.

[_He can be so annoying at times. On the other hand, the professor's reaction should be fun to watch._

"Scar?" Snape said in a curious voice. "Somehow that makes sense. That means in your world Malcolm is the Dark Lord."

Dewey smiled. "Naw, just a wanna be. He never made it past evil henchman."

"And you are taking him back with you?"

Dewey nodded solemnly. "I'm taking him back to die."

"NO."

[_I just shouted._

Everyone was looking at Malcolm. Dewey said firmly. "Over a dozen people are dead because of him. My world will not tolerate the dementors anymore. He will be executed." He added sadly, "I have no choice."

"But . . ."

"Shut up, Malcolm," Snape said calmly. "I am curious. How many of these people were good upstanding citizens."

"That isn't the point," Dewey told him. "He decided on his own to kill those people. He cannot be permitted to take the law into his own hands."

"Not guilty by reason of insanity," Malcolm said hastily. "You said he was nuts."

"Incurably insane," Dewey noted. "He will still die." He held out his hand to Malcolm. "He isn't you."

"He could have been," Malcolm said with a sense of defeat.

"And they call him a genius," Snape muttered. "There's nothing you can do, Malcolm. And there is nothing you should even try to do. I know enough of this boy already. He never knew love. He never knew friendship. None of the things that happened to you happened to him . . ."

[_Wait. THAT'S IT! The things that happened to me._

"I AM A GENIUS!" Malcolm shouted. "Dewey, do you know any French families? The Delacours?"

"No. Yes. I met the family once, shortly before our second war began. Why?"

"They had two daughters and a son. The son would be the middle child. Would the youngest daughter be my age?"

Dewey tried to think. It was hard because he was trying to draw up old memories which hadn't seemed important at the time. And he had no idea where Malcolm was going with this idea.

Snape muttered something under his breath. Then he said, "I know who you're thinking of, Malcolm, but she would be the age he is." He nodded toward the older Malcolm.

"But the book says she was eleven. Here, she had the accident, because of me. But so did Dewey. This Dewey didn't have the accident, and . . . it's just a chance, a hope. Professor, that's me lying there. I can't let him die."

"I think he's right," Dewey said. "About the girl. She would be eleven. They told me she would start school in a couple of years. That would have been in September."

"Great."

Malcolm laid out his plan. He explained about Gabrielle and himself, about how it was love at first sight. When he finished explaining his plan, Dewey shook his head.

"That's impossible."

"Everything I told you happened to me, not all at one time though. If we did it, would you give him a chance?"

"If." Dewey was shaking his head. "I can't guarantee anything. But there is a chance. And I would fight for it. If it weren't for him, I would have never known enough to defeat the Dark Lord."

Snape let out a groan. "I was right Malcolm. We should never have let you into this country, much less into Hogwarts."

The matter decided, the discussion began on how to carry out the plan. Along the way the subject also came up about why Harry Potter never heard them. Severus Snape pointed out that, having read the book, he knew exactly where he should wait. Once he knew Ron was there, and he was not alone, the Professor put a silence shield around the area where the tent was.

[_And Dewey even thanked him. He is a weird kid. It must be Boy-Who-Lived syndrome._

It was decided. Malcolm would fly to France for the potion, and visit his girlfriend as an excuse. Nob would return to his brother's house with Dewey and the frozen Malcolm. As soon as Malcolm arrived at the house, Severus Snape would come and perform the necessary spells.

[_Then we'll all go to this great restaurant I know._

* * *

"Finite Incantatum," Dewey said as he took the final spell off his now younger brother. It was time to see how successful Headmaster Snape was with the Oblivate spell. Malcolm stirred, and slowly opened his eyes. He looked at Dewey with a bit of confusion, then at the doctor when the woman called his name.

Malcolm was asked to tell the last thing he remembered. The doctor was smiling, so Malcolm did, too. After a few minutes, he shook his head. "I remember an owl delivering a letter."

"And did you read the letter."

"Um . . . "

[_Right. Wake up in a hospital and tell someone the last thing I remember is going crazy._

"I'll make it easy for you," The doctor said. "Do you remember the seal on the back of the envelope?"

Malcolm stared in surprise. On the funny dress the woman wore, she had the same emblem that was on the envelope. The doctor followed his stare, and smiled. "And did you read letter inside the envelope, dear?"

"It's all real?" Malcolm asked in surprise.

"Too real," Dewey said.

Malcolm turned to the familiar looking boy. "Do I know you?"

"You had an accident, dear," Madam Pomfrey said. "A bad one. And it took a great effort to cure you."

Madam Pomfrey told Malcolm that it was five years later than he remembered. She introduced Dewey, and let him take over the conversation. Dewey gave the popular version of what had happened. About the war, about the prophecy, how Malcolm helped him learn so much magic at a young age. How the war ended and everyone thought they were safe. The surprise attack and how Malcolm was injured.

It was agreed by the five people who knew the truth to keep secret that Malcolm was the one who launched the attack. As Malcolm disappeared shortly after that, there were no loose ends. Instead, Malcolm was told he was injured. And they finally found a cure, but it was a drastic one. They found a way to remove the last five years from Malcolm's life.

Dewey looked at his brother with sad eyes. "After all the things you did for me, I didn't want to lose you."

Malcolm smiled, more in awe of what had happened than anything else. He was a great wizard at a young age. And now he had to do it all again, knowing he was going to be great. On top of that he had someone who knew it and would help him. He had an older brother.

"What?" Dewey asked.

"It was always me. I always had to do everything."

"I'll help you," Dewey said, and the smile returned to Malcolm's face.

"Um," Malcolm asked, "What day is this?"

"September First," Dewey answered. "The sorting begins in an hour. If you're interested."

Malcolm started Hogwarts that year. His eagerness and willingness to work hard made him an obvious choice, this time, for Hufflepuff. When comments were made, it was Dewey who backed him up by saying the war was over. It was no longer time for bravery, but to work to rebuild. The legacy of reckless bravery the Chosen One's brother had shown was well known. And because the English world of magic was in shreds, there was a great deal of rebuilding to be done. During the war, the Gryffindor's star shone brightly. But this was peace.

It was Malcolm's fourth year, the second time around, that an incident occurred which shown how attitudes had already changed. A new student, from a long line of Slytherins, bragged about being put in Hufflepuff, that it proved how good he was.

But Malcolm didn't care. In his first year, he was invited to join his brother at the social event of the year, the Beauxbatons Cotillion. It was there that he met a first year from that school, a girl. As the festival began, they had an overly long conversation that consisted of mostly of 'uhm's' and 'uh's'. Then the music began, and Malcolm noticed that people had started dancing. He asked Gabrielle to dance with him. She said yes.

When the dance was over, the King of Samanois explained to them about the first dance. Then he held his crown of mistletoe over their heads. Their kiss made the front page of the Daily Prophet.

* * *

In the real world, Malcolm sat in an office with Nob and Dewey.

[_I told Dewey he should let his hair grow. It looked good on him._

Severus Snape was not his normal self. He looked agitated. "How much do you know?" he asked the boys. "About the books."

"There were three of them at one point," Malcolm said, knowing where the conversation was going. "The other Dewey and Malcolm each bought one. And Dewey bought one."

"That's how they found us, Sir," Dewey explained. "They didn't stumble onto this world, they stumbled onto the world that Erik came from. And since they knew what to look for, they were both able to find this world."

"Yeah," Malcolm added, "So when I thought I was stealing Dewey's book back from the other Malcolm, it was really his book. And the other Dewey took his book back with him."

"And do you know who stole your book?" Snape asked Dewey.

Nob raised his hand. "Is that why you're upset, Sir? Because you read it?"

Snape reached into his desk drawer and returned the book to Dewey. "It was interesting. The facts were mostly correct. What is most upsetting to me is that the only people I can share the facts with are you three."

[_And that's why we're not in his office. He doesn't want anyone else to know, period. And that means all those portraits._

Snape looked at the three boys. He gave a rare smile to Dewey, who always gave him a sad look. "You should be happy for me, Dewey. The only reason I live is for revenge. And I have discovered that my death will guarantee it. I will die before I become useless." His uncharacteristic smile broadened. "Which is more than I can say for all of you."

[_Wow. Severus Snape just told a joke._

"Good line, Sir," Malcolm said, "And that silence spell you cast on that tent was good, too."

The grumbling attitude was back. "The way those two idiots kept popping in and out all over the place, I'm surprised they didn't land directly on Potter's tent. For all their skill, they really need to learn to stay in one place."

[_Did you hear that? He said, 'for all their skill'. That's Snape talk for they were really good. And it was a great battle._

* * *

Robin was still nervous. It was a simple one week tour. He did this every other week. Forty people on a bus that traveled through southern England and ended at the Chunnel Station. It seemed so easy. Francis gave him the job on a silver platter. He was earning enough money that he would give a tour to a bus filled with dynamite and burning candles. But this was not a normal tour.

Mark, the bus driver, assured him that the weird arrangements to pick people up was what made the tour so popular. But the stops were never the same. And he never heard of an arranged tour stop on a deserted back road in the middle of the night. Robin also had no idea why everyone was nervous. And each trip seemed worse than the last one.

Now it was the Easter tour. And everyone was happy. Extremely nervous and happy. As they drove down the picturesque lane, they passed what looked like a chopped off lighthouse in the middle of a fenced field. Robin took the microphone and pointed it out to the passengers that it was a watch tower from the Great War. The grounds were fenced off because the field was used to store live ammunition, and the government had never bothered to send in an inspection crew. He reminded them that there might still be a few bombs lying around.

As usual, someone whispered to their friend that the Lovegoods lived there. He had no idea who the Lovegoods were but he did check. The tower was deserted although there was supposed to be a watchman to keep trespassers away. Logic told him that must be who this Lovegood and his family were. But that still didn't explain why he was so well known. To make matters worse, just as he finished his comment about a few bombs, an explosion was heard. He looked at the tower to see that a hole had been blown out of one side.

Robin turned to Mark but the driver had already pressed down on the accelerator. They would be out of the area in no time. But people were talking about the watchman. He picked up his microphone.

"As you can see, I was correct about the bombs. One thing we can be thankful for is that the tower is unoccupied at this time. I happen to know that the watchman, a man named Lovegood, isn't there today because of the holidays. I can't say exactly where he is, of course . . ."

"Best kept a secret," an old lady near the front said. "But thanks for letting us know."

Robin smiled nervously. Then one of the children said that word again. Squib. As in saying to your sister, "I told you he was a squib. He knows all about it."

"Where's our next stayover, Mark?" Robin asked.

"The Milford Inn."

"Why don't we go straight there? I don't think this crowd's in a shopping mood."

* * *

Tim and Ginny walked into the Burrow, both their cheeks rosy red from the cold. Molly waved them to the table, and had two cups of hot chocolate waiting for them. She took a sip from her own cup and sat it down carefully.

"What happened? You're back earlier than I expected and neither of you is smiling."

"We heard an explosion." Ginny said. "From Luna's house."

"And you came straight home. Good girl."

No one had told Tim about the Lovegoods, or that Death Eaters had boarded the Hogwarts Express and seized Luna Lovegood. He never even heard of the Hogwarts Express except that he knew Ginny took a train home from school. Still, it stole the happiness of the day from him. And he had been happy. Ginny let him try a broomstick. She even told him he did good for his first day. But he was nervous. No one mentioned the war going on in the world of magic, but he was learning very quickly that short sentences meant something bad had happened. And if he asked if they were safe, they would only say yes. But he had to ask anyway.

"Are we safe? Here, I mean."

Molly earned his respect by looking him directly in the eye and saying, "We are. For now."

* * *

Robin was sitting at the bar nursing his pint. He wanted a drink but if he drank fast he would only get another. If he drank slowly, he would get hungry. He had placed his order for some crisps when the girl sat down on the stool next to him. A girl that was no more than two years younger than him.

"I know you lied back there, but it was a good lie. I wanted to thank you."

Robin tried to smile. The tour people usually avoided him. They usually avoided everyone. "I don't know why, but everyone seems to know the man's name. I had to say something."

The girl laughed. "He's the editor of the Quibbler. Don't you know that?"

Suddenly Robin understood, or thought he did. The man produced one of those weekly rags with a few thousand readers. All today's gossip about whatever subject. And these people were all subscribers, more or less. "I never read much. Only paper I've ever heard of is the Times, London that is. I know there's others but I don't bother."

The girl laughed again. "It's safer that way. It's better if you never know what's going on."

Robin toasted her with his glass and took a sip. He offered to buy her a drink "You know the old saying, 'he never knew what hit him'? I'm the one they're talking about. If something's about to hit me I don't want to know what it is. I want to enjoy my last few minutes of life without knowing that they are the last minutes." The barkeep gave the girl a pint and they toasted each other. "And why did you come on this tour? If I may ask."

The smile faded. "You don't know, do you?"

Robin froze for only a moment. Then he was back to normal, meaning nervous again for some unexplainable reason. "No. But I'm not blind. Can I be honest with you? This is not a normal tour. I get the feeling that I'm not dealing with a group on holiday. It feels more like a war movie, where the underground is helping to get innocent people out of the way. Except this isn't a real war. It's a . . . phantom . . . war." He stopped. "I suddenly have the urge to get very, very drunk."

The girl looked at him. "That's why I came down here."

Robin smiled. "I'll buy all the drinks you want if you'll explain why people on the tour call me the Phantom."


	21. Spring Break

**Chapter 21: Spring Break**

Four boys, all related, were sitting outside near the lake. The least related, and most happy about it was Draco. He was also the most upset.

"Father owled me. They want me to return to the Manor for the spring holiday."

Nob shuddered. "That means you'll be getting all mushy with Ginny Weasley on the train."

"No. Well, I will, but that's not the point. One way or another, I won't be coming back. And I'm not sure what the other way is."

Malcolm looked at Nob. They both nodded. "We'll ride shotgun for you. Besides, we haven't seen Reese all year."

Draco almost laughed. "Except for when a certain guest is there, he's having a great time. Rumor has it that even Aunt Bella likes my new attitude."

"That's no fun," Nob added. "Why would we want to watch him enjoying himself?"

"So we can ruin it," Dewey added. "If Draco's going home, they don't need Reese anymore. We wait until Reese is really happy, then we remove the spell."

"Cool."

[_Yeah. Dewey's growing up. It's that maturity thing. Either that or he wants to get back at Reese for all the times he picked on him._

Draco shook his head. "Dewey, you do understand that people leave HIS service in only one way. He's not going to let Reese go. Reese knows too much and he never keeps his mouth shut."

"We need a plan," Malcolm said with authority.

"I'll make one," Dewey told him.

"I've got one," Nob pointed out.

Three boys laughed. They calmed down enough to ask Nob to tell his plan. When Nob refused because he was angry, Malcolm punched his arm and ordered him to tell or he'd get worse. Nob hit Malcolm in the face, then agreed to tell.

"It's what we did with Jared and Simon. Since Reese is Draco, they're twins. I grab one, you grab the other and . . . we have lunch."

"That is a good plan," Dewey admitted. "But we'll need a backup plan."

Nob pouted. "Why?"

"What if they cancelled the spell on Reese already?"

"So what do we do then?"

"Confusion," Dewey said.

Malcolm smiled. And he knew just the person to talk to.

* * *

"What? Do I have one of those bugs over my head again?" Anthony was always concerned when Reese was around. The feeling was extended to Reese's brothers as well. After maintaining a low profile for so long, they had come back to bother him. "I'm being watched all the time, anyway."

"Yeah," Malcolm admitted. "Me and Nob watch you and make daily reports at least once a week. Who cares? We want to watch you do something or we'll tell certain people you're doing something."

Anthony frowned. Malcolm had proven he was Reese, only smarter. "And what do you want me to do?" When Malcolm smiled, Anthony realized he would have been better off choosing door number two. "I'll get Becca."

[_Hey, that means two things. He knows what I'm talking about. And I was right. He's been practicing._

"You any good?"

Anthony couldn't help but smile. "Pull out your wand and practice your Defense homework."

Malcolm pulled out his wand and cast the lumos spell. Nothing happened. Anthony said he had a range of ten feet. After that, it tapered off for another ten. And it didn't break wards or cancel existing spells except, for example, that a security ward wouldn't go off if he were the one to walk through it. As an added bonus, he pointed out that Malcolm could even change into his animal form because it was a pre-existing spell.

* * *

Percival Harmon was explaining the accounts to Francis. Not an in depth explanation, only the basics so that he understood how bad their situation was.

"Major withdrawals have been made from your brother's account at Gringotts. The only reason we're still afloat is that not all previous accounts have been withdrawn, probably because of casualties on the parts of the previous depositors, as well as the fact that the withdrawals were not complete. Apparently, there was a prearranged agreement that a holding fee of some ten percent would be charged. As a result, we still have sufficient funds to meet out balances. For a few weeks. Or until we're audited. Whichever comes first. And we're already overdue on the audit."

"But what about the profits from the mall?"

"That's all going to repay the financing of the muggle loans, after salaries and upkeep. We can start using that money in two or three years."

Francis shook his head. "I'm officially confused."

"It's simple. We've put the mall on complete muggle financing, using the Gringotts account for emergency funding. But we're paying everything for the bus tours from the Gringotts account with nothing going back in. Either we find a new source of income, or the Chosen One gets off his arse and nixes the Dark Lord before the end of the month. If we're audited, the timing is shortened to five minutes before the government accountants walk through that door. Because it's going to be obvious that I'm moving money around just to keep everything else moving."

"Any more bad news?"

"Outside of keeping track of three sets of books, I can't think of any?"

"Three?"

"One for the muggles, one for the Ministry, and one so we know what's really going on. I'd say you should start keeping a personal fund and when trouble hits run for that tour bus."

Francis returned to his fancy office and sat down. He felt like he was on a train instead of a bus and somewhere, up ahead, the bridge was out. And he couldn't risk shouting a warning in case the bridge coming up was the wrong bridge. Life was so much easier when he was a juvenile delinquent.

"Sir?" It was Claire on the intercom. "The auditors called. They want to set up an interview. And Mister Harmon's left for lunch."

Francis looked at his calender. It was already Thursday. "Claire, if it's no problem, any time next week is good. We're going into the Easter weekend and tomorrow is already chaos."

"Very well, Sir. I'll set things up."

Francis waited until Claire checked back with him. The auditors suggested Monday morning and to call back if there were any problems. He waited until Harmon returned from lunch and told him he was a prophet.

* * *

Everything seemed so easy, Draco thought, as he walked up the road to the Manor house. Malcolm and Nob were somewhere overhead, while Dewey and Anthony were following, invisibly, on the back of a Griffin. It was going to be an interesting night. The first thing he did was slip inside the house and locate Reese. A stunning spell made life easier and he walked downstairs, after opening a window, to take his rightful place as heir to the manor. His timing was impeccable. Visitors entered as he walked into the drawing room.

Draco's first thoughts were that his timing couldn't be worse. The first person of the group to enter was Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf. And he claimed he had the Chosen One with him.

* * *

Malcolm and Nob bided their time. They both knew Hermione Granger. And liked her. To hear her scream and know they didn't dare interfere made the scene they were trying not to witness worse for both of them. Then the rescue came from the dungeon. Malcolm dared to peek just in time to see Bellatrix Black throw a small knife. He knew it hit its mark.

It was over. Bellatrix Black had enough time to, unknowingly, teach Nob a new word before Voldemort apparated directly into the drawing room.

[_It's Showtime._

"Good, Malcolm, you're here," Draco suddenly said from behind him. He walked past the two boys, adding, "You can have your brother back, shortly. After this, no one will want him here."

Malcolm watched in shock as Reese, as Draco, walked down the stairs to greet the Dark Lord.

[_I think we should have had a few more backup plans._

The first few minutes, for Malcolm, were fun. He watched as the werewolf was shown how powerful the Cruiatus Curse could be. Others were berated in a similar fashion. Uncle Lucius and Aunt Narcissa were treated the lightest. Voldemort clearly did not expect much from them, anyway.

"And which one of you is Draco?" the Dark Lord said, at last.

Two identical boys said they were.

"And one of you is lying? Which one of you has a wand?" Voldemort looked as one Draco pulled a wand out of his pocket. "The real Draco had his wand stolen. A mahogany wand. You must be Reese."

"I stole his wand, master," Draco said quickly. "I knew Reese would only cause trouble if he were to get involved. Things could have been worse."

"I don't see how," Voldemort said, clearly amused. "But there is another way. I gave the Dark Mark to my loyal follower. Draco, remove your shirt." Draco hesitated. A flick of the master's wand and Draco's shirt went flying, torn to shreds. Draco stood there bare chested and, more damning, bare armed. There was no Dark Mark visible.

"If I may, Master," the other Draco said with oily ease. He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt far enough to reveal the mark burned into his arm.

"Thank you, Draco, for that proof. AVADA KEDAVRA." The Draco who was Reese fell to the ground, dead. No one moved as the Dark Lord turned to the real Draco. "It doesn't matter who you used to be. You are Draco Malfoy, now and always. Did you think I was so foolish that I didn't know it was you all this time while the real Draco, excuse me, the former Draco Malfoy played his shenanigans at school? Go back to Hogwarts and clean up his mess. If you do well, I can promise you the Dark Mark, for real."

"Th-thank you, master."

"I always reward loyalty." Voldemort was smiling.

At that point, Nob decided to start screaming.

[_I'd have screamed but I'm still in shock._

Everyone turned to the staircase. Malcolm and Nob were there. Malcolm was staring at Reese's body. Nob was simply screaming.

"You killed him," Malcolm said in a low tone.

"He was no longer useful. Nor was he loyal. Are you loyal, Malcolm?" The threat was clear.

"He was family," Malcolm said.

Voldemort pointed his wand at Malcolm. "You have a choice. His parents aren't upset. You shouldn't be. And, in a sense, you still have your brother and your cousin, thanks to Nob's little trick."

"He was family," Malcolm repeated as he walked down the stairs.

[_I hope you realize that what I'm doing is completely stupid. On the other hand, I'm still in shock and I believe I can take on the entire room with one hand tied behind my back._

As Malcolm stepped off the staircase onto the floor proper, he put one hand behind his back. He whipped out his wand and shouted, "IT'S TIME TO ROCK AND ROLL."

Voldemort shouted in return. "Avada Kedavra." The green glow of the killing curse engulf Malcolm.

Malcolm sneezed.

The glow faded.

"Malcolm," Nob called out, pointing to his cheek, "Booger."

"Oh, Gross. Thanks." Malcolm pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his cheek. For safe keeping he then blew his nose. He started to put the used handkerchief back in his pocket, then hesitated. Instead he threw it on the floor. He looked up and everyone was staring at him. "Is it my turn?"

[_Either I'm imagining things or I just pull a Harry Potter on him._

Malcolm felt his forehead. "Hey, how come I don't get a scar? Is it an English thing?"

"Malcolm," Draco said carefully. "How do you feel?"

"I don't feel a thing. Really. Do you want to fight me? I think I can handle it. It'll be fun?"

Voldemort took a wand from one of the Death Eaters. He pointed it at Malcolm.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Hey, I didn't sneeze that time," Malcolm said.

Voldemort turned his wand on Nob who had walked over to Reese's body. "Avada Kedavra."

Nob snorted. As the green glow faded, he said, "That tickles."

[_Anyway, I'm no longer in shock. Now, I'm screwed. Wait. I just remembered. Plan A._

"Impossible," Voldemort said. "They are immune to the killing curse. We will have to try other means." He said to everyone else. "Grab them."

Draco, eager to live, put his hand on Malcolm's shoulder. Nob was watching him. He had his foot on Reese's chest. As Malcolm cast his spell, Nob called out, "Hey, Big V. Grab this." The shout was accompanied by an obscene gesture consisting of the raised digit of one hand. He barely finished shouting when he disappeared along with Malcolm, Draco and Reese's body.

[_I hope Dewey and Anthony are okay. We left them sitting on Dennis. I guess they're still invisible 'cause nobody freaked out about a griffin being there._

"I am sorry," Draco said to Malcolm as they suddenly appeared by a door without a wall.

Malcolm snarled. "But it was Reese, so that's okay."

"For me," Draco said. "You knew it had to be one of us. And I can't object to the way things turned out."

"I can," Dewey said as he suddenly appeared with Anthony and Dennis. "You were supposed to stun Reese and keep him out of the way."

"I did."

"He recovered," Malcolm said, "And was past me before I could stop him. It wasn't Draco's fault." He lowered his head. "It was mine. Reese is dead because of me."

"Brother," Nob said as everyone else became very quiet.

"Shut up, Nob."

"Brother."

"I told you to SHUT UP."

"MALCOLM, YOU ASSHOLE, WE HAVE COMPANY."

Malcolm turned around to see who was standing there. He didn't smile. "You came for Reese?"

"No," Death told him. "I came for Draco. Except he's not dead yet. Either kill him or take the spell off Reese so I can get back to work."

"What?" It would have sounded more dramatic except at least four people asked the question.

[_Of course. It's obvious. Reese died as Draco, not as Reese. If I remove the spell, Reese will be Reese again and he'll still be alive. Yes. I just take the spell off and Reese will be back. Yeah . . . Boy, talk about your mixed emotions._

"Finite Incantatum," Anthony said. He smiled at Malcolm. "You were taking too long. I assumed you couldn't figure it out."

"Naw," Nob explained. "He was just trying to figure out how long he could put it off."

"It is Reese," Draco pointed out.

"Wow," Reese said as he sat up, "that was an experience I don't want to repeat." He saw Death smiling at him. "Hey, babe, sorry to scare you like that. I was in control the whole time. I knew I had backup."

"I think I'll survive," Death said as she flashed him a smile. "If you'll excuse me, I have to be going."

"Hey, wait," Reese called, "We'd make a good couple. I'd like to see you again."

"I can promise you," Death told him, "we will meet again."

"Is that . . ." Anthony asked.

"She looks familiar," Dennis said.

"Did you want to join us?" Nob asked as he took Death's hand. "I mean, do you eat?"

"I'm hungry," Malcolm said. He tried the door. It opened.

"Wow," Reese said. "This place is crowded."

"Well, look who's back," the waitress said. "You're getting to be a regular."

"Hey, Naomi," Malcolm said. "We need a table for eight."

Naomi's eyes went wide. "I like the company you keep. Follow me."

Death smiled. "I really can't stay." She stroked Nob's hair. "But thank you for asking. You are the young gentleman."

As she went to leave, Malcolm called out, "See you later."

Death called back. "It's a given."

* * *

"I want to know, Nob," Dennis said, "How did you survive the killing curse? And how did Malcolm survive it twice?"

"Shared Enhancement," Malcolm answered. "Nob thought of this spell that links our bodies. Do you know about Horcruxes?"

Dennis nodded. "Dewey told me that's what's taking Potter so long. He also said you've got to kill people to make them."

"Well, we did the same thing, without all the killing. Think of it like this. I gave Nob half of my soul and he gave me half of his. The killing curse rips your soul from the body. When Voldemort cast his spell, my soul was destroyed. But Nob had part of it and he gave it back to me, except he again saved half, and gave me half of his soul as well because . . . We share everything. And souls don't have any volume so you can keep giving half and still have a whole one."

Dennis was impressed.

"My question," Anthony said. "I know why Dewey went. And Dennis was an obvious choice. Was I really needed?"

"You could have been," Malcolm explained. "You are Reese's friend and if he had any doubts he would listen to you."

"Really?" Anthony looked surprised. He didn't think Reese listened to anyone.

"Where is Reese?" Malcolm asked.

"The kitchen. He wanted to find out how they made the veal he was served."

* * *

It was late at night. There was a knock at the door that wouldn't let up. Angry and tired, Hector Filch walked to the locked door of the dormitory where he was keeping watch. His eyes widened as he saw who was there. The doors were unlocked and opened in a flash.

"Reese?" He looked at the younger boy. "Anthony?"

"My friend and I are looking for work," Anthony said.

Reese smiled. "I learned this great new recipe for veal and I've been dying to try it."

"Can you start tomorrow?" Hector asked. "I'll give you your old wage and the old storage cottage to live in."

"Keys?" Reese demanded.

Hector pulled out his key ring and pulled a key off. "Here you are."

As Reese ran off, satisfied with the results, Hector looked at Anthony. "Will you have any problems getting back?"

Anthony looked around. "No one knows I'm here. Could I stay? I'm a good assistant chef."

Hector saw the pleading look in the boy's eyes. And he had heard stories. "We'll get you a uniform, just in case. And a cap to wear whenever you're outside. In case anyone sees you." He stepped aside to let the boy enter. "Welcome home."

* * *

At the very moment that everyone disappeared from the room, Draco reappeared exactly as he was when he left. "What the . . ." he said as he looked at his empty hand. "How did he do that?" He looked up at Voldemort. "Master?"

Voldemort was angry. They simply vanished. No popping noises. They were there, and then they were gone. But he knew them well enough. They would try to contact their brother. And their brother loved being Draco more than himself.

* * *

Dennis flew into the air once they returned. He wanted his moment of freedom before he went back to Gryffindor. Dewey left him to go back to Slytherin. Nob returned to Ravenclaw. Things were getting bad. Neville and Seamus looked like crash dummies from a car commercial. After they drove the car.

Dennis smiled. Nob was Neville's best secret. He was the one who was passing information to the others. The ones outside Dumbledore's Army who could be trusted. Malcolm would be suspect, but Nob was the opposite. His smile said you could believe him when he told you something.

* * *

Harmon was panicking when Francis told him they were safe. He was given the account number to access and went to work. In the space of an hour, the line of credit was entered into the books as a legal transaction. It was entered into a second set of books as an approved support fund. In the third set of books it was listed as a tapped resource to be watched carefully in case someone came looking for their money.

The auditors came in promptly at the opening of business. Francis greeted them. He introduced Harmon, then left them to the audit.

"Amazing," one of the auditors said as they exited the accountant's office. "The entire world is international these days. Backers in London, France and the States."

Percival Harmon was smiling. "And the London group is an international fund as well. With partners from every country from here to Australia and back again."

One of the auditors noticed Malcolm. When Francis introduced his brother, the auditor asked why he was wearing robes.

[_I've done this routine before._

"I'm in the school choir, Sir. I wanted to show off to my brother."

"The choir?" Both auditors were smiling. "We'd love to hear something."

Malcolm began to sing. "God save our gracious Queen / God save our . . ."

"For mercy's sake, please stop," one of the auditors cried. "Why did they ever put you in the choir?"

"I turn the sheet music for the organist, Sir."

The auditors said goodbye and left.

Harmon was still smiling. He asked Francis if he could discuss something in private with him. About the recent cash inputs. Francis told him it was no problem and he and Malcolm followed the man into his office.

"Where did you get that account?" Harmon asked. "If anything, it's bigger than the last account we tapped into."

"What?" Malcolm said. "That's my money you've been spending?"

Francis looked at Harmon. Harmon looked at Francis. They both looked at Malcolm and said yes. "And now," Harmon demanded, "I want to know whose money we're using now."

"Cousin Draco gave me the number to his dad's account," Malcolm explained.

Harmon paled as he stared at Malcolm. "The Malfoys? Their account has been taken over by You-Know-Who. All of that money has been seized from . . . I've tapped into the Dark Lord's account." As the shock faded, he smiled again. "I've had a thought. It must be poetic justice. We're using the money he seized to help the very people he took it from."

"Francis?" Malcolm asked. "You're the Phantom?"

"The what?"

"You don't even know? There's this covert radio station that talks about what's going. Who died. Who lied. And every now and then they report how people the government is tracking just up and disappear on them. That they were grabbed by the Phantom."

* * *

Robin was getting very good at his job. He had a wonderful time during the Christmas tour. It ended with several hangovers and a proposal of marriage to a girl who never even told him her name. She went to France saying she would think about it.

And today, a strange thing happened to him. One of the clerks from the candle shop on the next floor happened to run into him as he was walking home. He was polite and friendly and then mentioned running into some strange people two blocks over.

The same thing had happened once before. Robin decided a detour was in order. His eight block walk on a beautiful day would become a ten block walk.

He found the place easily enough. Another family. Standing there trying to look like tourists that were too tired. The man kept looking around, nervously. Robin walked by, deliberately looking at the baby the mother was holding. He was a salesman and he had his line ready.

"Cute baby," he said, with a nod to the parents. He stopped in his tracks. "Wait, did that baby just smile at me or was it a phantom thought."

Hope appeared in the man's eyes. "Phantoms abound on a cold night."

"And in the shadows of a summer's day," Robin replied. He honestly had no idea what he was doing, but he knew it was good. The tour was still three days away. "My flat's not far from here, and I don't get many relatives visiting, Cousin . . ."

"Dag," the man said.

"Cousin Dag. Over dinner, I'll tell you about my job. You might even like to try one of our tours."

It was a short walk. They stayed for the three days and the tour bus picked them up in front of the building. The Phantom had snatched away another family from the searching eyes.

* * *

It was rehearsed. But Dewey had plenty of time to prepare.

"Wait a minute," he asked Amycus Carrow. "Did he kill Reese or Draco?"

"Well," Amycus said politely, "Reese is now Draco, so in one sense he killed both of them and in another sense he killed neither of them."

"Cool. At least I don't have to tell Mom. And Draco was getting a little flaky, anyway. Does that mean my brother's filthy rich or does he have to wait for Uncle Lucius to kick the bucket?"

Amycus tried to smile. He was speaking to a member of the most cold blooded family he had ever met. He was telling the boy that his cousin was killed and the rat was trying to figure out what he could get out of it. He dropped the second bombshell to see what effect it would have on the boy.

"Your twin brothers didn't share your enthusiasm. They managed to steal Malfoy's body, although to what purpose I cannot imagine."

Dewey inadvertently laughed as he remembered Nob giving Voldemort the finger, except it was the wrong finger. "Sorry. I was just thinking how stupid that was. It must be an owl thing." Dewey gave his best smile. "I'm sure Malcolm has some brilliant plan that he'll tell us about later." Dewey was proud of himself. That last sentence made him sound very mature.

"The master has ordered them to be killed on sight."

"Does that mean I finally have permission?" Dewey managed to giggle at the end of the sentence. "This is great. It's payback time."

"That's the spirit," Amycus said with effort. Dewey was making him almost as nervous as when the Dark Lord was angry. "Let me know the results . . . when they occur." He tried to sound cheerful when he said, "you are dismissed."

Dewey left the office and turned right. He went down the first staircase, followed the hall ahead of him until he came to a corner. He turned left and entered the second office on the left.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"They never figured out how to break through your wards. And you need to know something important. I have permission to hunt owls."

"That explains why Malcolm and Nob never returned after the holiday. And why did you risk coming here."

"To innocently ask if you've heard anything. They're my brothers and I'm extremely worried."

"Really?"

She walked Dewey to the door. As she opened it, she yelled, "You are a disgrace to your family. You deserve to be in Slytherin. AND DON'T EVER BOTHER ME AGAIN." Then she slammed the door behind her.

Amycus stepped out from around the corner, looking curious. Dewey gave him a lopsided smile. "All I said was that I was real worried." He changed his expression to a frown. "She actually laughed at me."

Amycus smiled and patted the boy's shoulder reassuringly. "Not to worry. Her time will come."


	22. The End of Days

**Chapter 22: The End of Days**

Robin was sitting in his office. He was in a rare good mood. Nothing could ruin it for him. And then the phone rang. He answered it by stating the name of the company followed by his own name. He said politely, "May I help you." He found that it helped never to say it as a question.

"Yeah, right. Look, just wait okay. Mister, did you say you were Robin?" It was a young man, probably a teenager, definitely American.

"Yes, I did. Are you interested in a local tour or something more extensive?"

"What? No? Jeez, Lady, just wait a minute. Yeah, Mister, I'm helpin' this chick, OW, lady. She ain't ever used a phone before. Okay, hold on. And you don't need to shout. Try to talk normal."

Robin listened as he heard the phone change hands and a familiar female voice say, "Thank you, Louis."

"Yeah, right," a voice mumbled in the background

"Robin," the familiar voice said. She was nervous. They traded pleasantries until the boy in the background groused about the time. Then she came to the point. "Remember when you asked me to marry you?" When Robin said yes, he added that he meant it. She surprised him by telling him she would like to accept. And could he come to Paris, because she couldn't return to England.

Robin became ecstatic. Those last few days of that tour were wonderful. They were together day and . . . he thought of a reason she would suddenly want to get married three months later. He was now more nervous that she was. He tried to sound casual as he asked. She seemed terrified as she told him. And he understood why. Now that he knew, would he back out?

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it and looked at the picture. He was standing there with a family of four. Everyone was smiling. A voice, almost pleading, called his name.

"Sorry, Love. I was checking a few things. Here it goes. I've a tour that starts tomorrow. I can either join the tour when it heads on to France or I can drop everything and come right away. It's your call."

Laughter filled with relief and joy came over the phone. Then reality set in. The tour was more important. She could wait another week, knowing he would come. When the call ended, Robin sat there for ten minutes.

"Bugger all. When did I become the responsible bloke?"

* * *

Hal looked at Lois as he started to get out of bed to get ready for work. "I don't know how you can remain calm after all that's happened."

Lois smiled. "It's easy. I know bad things are happening but I can't do anything about them. And I know some of the people who are getting hurt. But I still can't do anything. And I have proof that everything is going to be fine."

Hal frowned. "You mean that book you told me about."

"Yup. Erik explained the whole thing while he was here. So I checked Dewey's stuff when he came back and I read the book. The Potter boy gets his act together the beginning of next month and finally does something."

"And everyone's fine?"

"That boy Dennis that Malcolm is friends with, his brother dies." Her jovial mood faded briefly. "We're lucky he's the only one we know."

"That is sad," Hal admitted. He had to ask. "How?"

"The boy decided he had to fight in the big battle, even though he was told not to."

"Terrible," Hal said. After a moment, he turned back to Lois. "Look, I'm sorry, but I can't feel bad about somebody who's not dead, yet."

"Well . . ."

"Here's an idea. If you get pregnant again, we'll name the next one Colin."

"What if it's a girl?"

Lost for anything to say, Hal kissed his wife. Then he took the phone off the hook in case work called to find out why he was late. After that, he went back to bed. And NO, he did not go back to sleep.

* * *

It was April Fifteenth. A momentous day. A young man of twenty one by the name of Robin was marrying a young girl of nineteen who was in her second trimester. The best man was a bus driver named Mark. The Bridesmaid was someone Robin had never met before. And the usher was some long-haired kid in fancy clothes whose English made someone from Brooklyn sound like he came from high society. Most of the people there were former tourists. Robin's parents were there, strongly critical. He calmed them with the line that it was a good thing she became pregnant or he would never have talked her into marrying him. Despite that, they thought most of the guests were strange. (The truth is it didn't calm his mother down at all. His casualness made her so mad that she couldn't speak. Her attitude did not change until after the wedding when her new daughter-in-law, upon finding out what he had said, rebuked her new husband for his callousness.) (Robin spent his wedding night sleeping on the couch.)

Across the channel, in Merry Olde England, specifically the Mid-London Mall, Percival Harmon was going out to lunch. He said goodbye to Claire, the secretary, and walked out the door. He came back in a second later, told her he was out and if anyone asked she never heard of him. He walked around the corner to his office, tore the name plate off his door for safety's sake, closed the door behind him, locked it and, as a last resort, hid under his desk with his wand in his hand.

Claire had just enough time to look surprised when the Toad Lady walked in with a . . . an . . . associate. At least that was how Claire mentally thought of her. She smiled and said that her boss was in, should she let them know they were here. She had already turned on the intercom as a warning. As expected, the Toad Lady ignored her and walked directly into Francis's office.

"One of your missing persons made an appearance."

Francis smiled. "We do have a 95 percent success rate. The others have to be somewhere. Would you like me to take care of it?"

"She's in France, and protected by the government."

The smile stayed in place. "I have friends in France, Dolores. I will . . . see what I can do. It may take a couple of days."

"He's that good?" the tall man asked.

"You'd be amazed," Umbridge said. "Thank you, Francis. I knew I could trust you." She turned to leave, but stopped. "I've always meant to ask. How is your family?"

"They're fine," Francis answered. The smile stayed in place.

"And your brothers?"

"I've talked to Dewey, recently. He's taken up hunting. Mostly game birds. And I don't think Jamie can talk yet. And cousin Draco said hello."

Dolores smiled at her associate. The man grumbled. "You have two other brothers, I believe."

"Yes." (The man noticed the smile did not fade in the slightest.) "And I am eager to find out what happened to them. As a matter of business, of course."

The man laughed. "Do you honestly think you could fight a trained wizard and win?"

Francis smiled as his hand touched the side of his desk. As the two Deputy Ministers turned around, Francis was already explaining. It was a standard issue sidearm for most American police officers. The button he pressed opens the secret compartment. Another button opens the compartment AND fires the pistol. It did not matter how powerful a wizard was if he never had a chance to use his power.

The man looked back at Francis who still had the same calm smile. Francis told him, "The point is to win. I'm more than willing to be fair later on, if it will help."

"Impressive," the man admitted. "And there is one more thing you should know. We need to audit your books, as a matter of procedure. Dolores wanted me to meet you before we went to see the accountant."

Francis was proud that his smile was still holding. "Then it's a good thing you did come to see me first. I know for a fact that he has gone to lunch. He won't be back for at least an hour." As the man hissed that they couldn't afford to stand around that long, Francis cleared his throat. "If it is easier for you, I'll bring him down with the books this afternoon. Will two be convenient? We could be there as early as one, I think, without any serious problem."

"Two is fine, Francis," Umbridge said. "That way we can all enjoy a long lunch."

The smile faded one tenth of a second after the two left. He counted to ten, smiled again and stepped out of his office.

"Are they gone?"

"Yes, Sir. Why are you giving me that smile?"

"Is Harmon around?"

"I've never heard of him."

"Good. He's in his office. That means I don't have to find him."

Francis walked over to the accounting office and knocked on the door. "Harmon, they're gone. Open up. Fast."

Harmon opened the door. He asked a question of one word. Audit? Francis nodded his head. He then told him the good news. Percival Harmon told him exactly how good he thought the news was. They would be watching for him. They would be looking for the man no one ever cares about until this very moment.

"I have an idea," Francis said.

"Will we live?" Harmon asked.

"Probably not, but it just might work."

Harmon hesitated. "And what is the plan?"

Francis smiled. "We both go down to the Ministry at two o'clock and show them the books."

"Plan B?"

"Run like hell?"

Harmon thought about it. "We'll have better luck with Plan A."

* * *

"I'm bored," Nob said. "All we do is fly around all day. Why don't we visit somebody?"

"Who? Everyone thinks . . . Hey, I know who we can visit. He hasn't seen me since I changed."

Malcolm grabbed Nob's hand and cast his spell.

* * *

It had been a hard day at work, but he was now back home. Home was a general term. It was a hotel room that he had been in for three weeks and expected to be in for at least another week. He was tired, he was hungry and he needed a shower. And someone had just knocked on the door.

He turned around, and opened it up. He looked down at the two boys. "I suppose you want autographs."

"Hey, Dan," one boy said, "I came by to show you my new look. Check it out. This is my brother, Nob. He can change, too."

Nob changed into an owl, then changed back. He looked at Dan. "You look familiar. Are you related to Harry Potter?"

* * *

Francis smiled. Harmon smiled. The Deputy Minister for Finance was not smiling. "YOU? You're the accountant?"

"Yes," Percival Harmon said in a voice designed to lull people into a false sense of security. "I am the accountant. I was asked to be the accountant in exchange for . . . forgiveness for past indiscretions."

"And who approved this absurdity?"

"Our chief financier. If he doesn't rank high enough, then ignore his wishes and I am at your mercy."

Harmon opened the first ledger directly to the listed accounts. There were only two marked for withdrawals. The Minister recognized the one account as that of Francis's brother. Francis noted that his brother originally wanted to help. And he personally didn't care at this point if his brother was ever paid back.

The Minister wasn't listening. He also recognized the second name, Malfoy, and knew who the real owner of that account was. He looked up in surprise. Francis and Percival were still smiling. Francis noted that their backer was a difficult man to refuse. Percival pointed out that he agreed to accept this position at once, without hesitation. He then asked about the Audit. The Minister closed the book, said everything was fine and rushed them out of his office.

* * *

Robin was in bed after a long day and night. His brand new wife, who had forgiven him, had told him she was a witch. He had responded by saying she was totally wicked. Now she was asking if he believed in magic. He said yes and smiled at her. His wife hesitated, then decided she would try to explain later.

* * *

"Yeah," Dennis was saying, "It was a great place. And to pay for your meal, someone at the table had to tell a story. And someone was always telling a story. It was great."

Colin smiled. "Dennis, do you know why I asked you about that restaurant?"

"You're bored?"

"We all are." A chorus agreed with him. "The Room of Requirement keeps us safe but it doesn't do much for entertainment."

"And you want me to describe the restaurant?" Dennis was laughing. "Or did you want to here some of the stories."

Everyone cheered. "I'll do it, but then everyone here has to tell a story, too." The idea took hold and everyone agreed. And Dennis told his first story.

"It was told by an old man who wasn't quite human. There is a place that is not a place. A world that exists only in dreams. And in the heart of this place is a great castle guarded by a dragon, a flying horse and a Gryphon. It is the house of the king of dreams. And in this house of myriad rooms is a library, a very special library. It contains at least one copy of each and every book that was never written. And one book is in there which tells the tale of a young wizard sitting on a bench as he listens to an old man tell a story about a place that is not a place."

* * *

It was almost midnight. The figure entered the now deserted first year dorm in Gryffindor. He opened the trunk of one of the boys. After sifting through the contents, he came up with what he was looking for. It was a book. A badly damaged book. It had been burned recently. Many pages were missing and most of what was left was illegible. But those few pages! Amycus Carrow was delighted.

One extant page described the fight at the Malfoys, which he had only heard about. He was certain those few small details were correct. Another was a later page where the Longbottom brat was describing the defense classes. And the description was accurate. Other pages, maybe a dozen in all, were also read to determine their accuracy. But there were two pages that could not be verified. On one of them, Voldemort was facing Harry Potter. And on the second page, only part of which could be read, Rubeus Hagrid was berating . . . someone . . . for letting Potter die.

The papers were made safe and the truck closed as Carrow fled the Gryffindor Tower. He would make his rendevous with good news to tell.

Voldemort was angry at the man's insistence, yet he took the time to look at the pages. All of them. On one of the burnt fragments he noticed a few lines. The Mudblood Granger was telling Potter he had to get the Elder Wand. And Potter said that . . . Voldemort laughed . . . Potter was telling her no, he was telling her who had the wand. The very wand he was on his way to take from Dumbledore's grave this very night.

He looked at Carrow. "Victory is sweet. And it is made sweeter knowing that he will come to me so that I may kill him." He sighed. If only enough of this book of prophecy had survived to tell him where he would kill the Potter boy.

* * *

Malcolm opened the door when it finally appeared. He and Nob walked into the Room of Requirement to see many familiar faces. None were unfriendly once they saw the way the two of them looked.

[_It was Nob's idea. He said we should look scruffy like we've been living in the woods for a while. And we were. Except for the two days we visited Dan, and another two days saying hi to Erik. He's not mad anymore that we refused to believe who he was. He's mad at Abercrombie for lying about his being a wizard just to get him to agree to let them play with his brain. Oh, and we spent another three days at the Water Park (TM)._

"Are we allowed in?" Malcolm asked.

Neville Longbottom was standing up. He was the obvious leader of the group. He gave a half smile. From the half of his face that could smile. "That depends. Is it true you gave the Dark Lord the finger?"

Malcolm smiled. "No way. Nob did it."

After the initial joviality and getting the two newcomers settled in, Dennis approached them.

"Malcolm, why did you come? You could have gone anywhere. Literally."

Nob snickered.

_It's that maturity thing he keeps warning me about. HEY, I just figured out how Malcolm does this! Cool._

Malcolm glared at his brother. He then looked at Dennis. Then he looked down. "Things are getting bad. We wanted to be with friends." Malcolm remembered his last conversation, when he stopped by the Burrow to see Ginny.

"How's Harry?" Her look said she knew he knew.

"I'm not sure. Honest. I burned the book. And I'm not sure of the exact dates anyway."

"It's a happy ending though?"

Malcolm avoided looking around. Especially at her. "For some of us."

[_I wish I never heard of magic._

"And Draco?" Ginny asked. She waited but Malcolm didn't say anything. For Draco, it would not be a happy ending. "I'm going to become Ginny Potter. That's it, isn't it? Harry will win me back. And Draco knows?" Malcolm didn't speak but the look he gave her told her she was right. Malcolm left as soon as he could. Ginny excused herself and ran to her room. And there, she cried for what might have been.

* * *

"I just had a terrible thought," Malcolm said to Nob when he saw Harry Potter enter the Room of Requirement. "Draco isn't going to be there to stop him."

Everyone else was cheering but the two boys weren't paying attention. Malcolm was frowning but Nob had a smile on his face.

Malcolm looked at him. "You didn't? When?"

"Before we came here? When you decided to go see Ginny. Reese's been running around the school as Draco."

"Then where's Draco. NO, you didn't."

[_He did. He turned Draco into me. You know, that does solve a lot of problems._

Malcolm watched as the conversation between Neville and Harry played itself out, word for word as it had been written in that book. At the appropriate moment, he turned to the tunnel entrance to watch Luna Lovegood enter behind Dean Thomas. Then the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan arrived. Cho Chang was right behind them. The conversation continued until Harry walked out of the Room of Requirement with Luna.

"Oh, my," Hermione Granger said as she walked up to them, "You two are still as cute as ever."

"Yeah, thanks. Hey, Ron."

Ron gave him a faint smile. "How's Dewey?"

"He's fine," Malcolm answered, knowing what he was referring to. "He's happily back at school. Unlike the rest of us."

"Yeah," Nob added. "We're stuck here in this fancy cave."

"Cave?" Hermione asked. "Ron, I've had an idea. Come on."

"What?" Ron asked.

Malcolm smirked. "You better get used to listening to her." Nob laughed as Ron smiled and Hermione blushed.

"Where are you going?" Neville asked as Ron and Hermione went to leave.

"We need to go use the bathroom," Ron called back. And then the two were gone.

Malcolm turned to Nob. "Wow. You were the reason she thought of the Chamber." He punched his arm lightly. "Good going."

"Malcolm, you just complimented me. Are you okay?"

"It's almost over. We get to sneak out of here with the rest of the students and sit around until it is all over. I'm too happy to be mad about anything."

Nob's eyes widened. "You're right. We don't have to worry any more."

* * *

Voldemort was looking at the scraps of paper. The book was destroyed by magic so that it could not be restored, but he was able to discern certain things. "Lucius, I have a task for you."

Lucius Malfoy was at once at his master's side. "Anything."

"I have come to understand that the students will be escaping. From hints that I have, there is a secret tunnel to Hogsmeade, from inside the school. And not one of the known ones. It must come out somewhere, and logic says it must be someplace friendly. I can only think of one place." Voldemort glanced at the riff-raff that had accompanied the Werewolf, Greyback. "I need someone to take the more useless of those . . . servants, and greet these children. Those of pureblood should be 'rescued', the rest be damned."

"I will lead them at once," Lucius told him.

"No, Lucius. You will inform Thorfinn Rowle. After all, you have no wand. And you are of more use here."

Lucius attended to the task at once. His life of service was almost at an end. With the Dark Lord thinking of the false Draco as his heir, Lucius lived only as long as it was convenient.

* * *

Neville took charge once everyone was ready to leave. He ordered several sixth years who were still underage to watch over the others, especially the Slytherins. Then he approached Colin Creevey. There was some argument, but Neville was adamant. Colin was underage, barely, and still had to go. Neville explained that someone had to be in charge of the group. And he was the oldest. Then Colin smiled. He promised he would get everyone out and to safety.

Neville put his hand on Colin's arm. And stay with them, he added. Colin nodded, still smiling. If he left, they would want to leave as well. He would do what he promised.

And the procession started. Everyone went to the Room of Requirement. The Slytherins went into the tunnel first. Malcolm noticed that none of them had wands. Colin had gone ahead and would be waiting for them, to make sure there were no problems. For reasons known to only a few, his brother, Dennis, went with him.

After the Slytherins, it was the first years. Malcolm and Nob were in the forefront. Colin had insisted. Their animagus abilities would be useful if there were problems Finally, the last student had exited the tunnel. As she did, someone came barging through the door of the Hogsmeade tavern, because that was where the tunnel ended. It was Neville's grandmother. She looked at the landlord of the tavern and asked where the fighting was. He pointed to the tunnel. She nodded, accepted a helping hand, and asked if everyone was out who was coming out. She nodded when she was told yes and informed him she would collapse the tunnel behind her.

"Why's she doing that?" a fourth year asked.

"So none of you brats will try sneaking back in," the landlord said. He looked around in disgust. "Try not to break anything. I'm off to the school on business." He opened the door to the outside, but looked back just before he left. "And don't try to follow."

"Let's get ready," Colin said. He told the fifth and sixth years to take their wands out. Carefully, he began handing back wands to the Slytherins while the older students from the other houses concentrated on them. "Those who can apparate, take your housemates with you. Go where ever you want. But don't try going back to Hogwarts, unless you want to be easy targets."

Most of the older Slytherins, aware of all the wands trained on them, called to their younger housemates. Pansy Parkinson began arguing with a fellow yearmate, Daphne Greengrass. Daphne laughed at her. She called to her sister that it was time to go home. A younger girl, a fifth year, ran up to her. Daphne wished Colin good luck and the two apparated away, the first to do so.

More Slytherins refused to be part of the departing group, they would go with someone from another house. That included all the third years.

[_Dewey's not with them?_

In all, almost half of the younger Slytherins opted to wait. Those who could apparate paired up with the others, in some cases two others. No one was surprised that most of Slytherin's sixth years, and a couple of the fifth years, knew the spell. In less time than anyone expected, every hostile member of that house was gone.

"Where do we go?" one of the remaining third years asked. "I mean all of us. We don't want to go too far."

"Yeah," her friend said, "We want to be close by when we celebrate the Chosen One's victory."

"The hills to the south of us," Colin said. "There are some caves there where we can hide out. Who knows about them?" There was laughter as almost all the older students raised their hands. Colin nodded. "We'll do this in groups. Who can apparate?"

A dozen students raised their hands.

"We'll start with the first years. Take them to the caves then come back for the second trip. Youngest first." He turned to Dennis. "Check out what's going on outside."

"Are you daft?" one of the fifth years asked. "There's Death Eaters out there. Or do you think all of them went to the school?"

Colin smiled. "Dennis?"

A number of students gasped as Dennis disappeared. The fifth year smiled. Even he had to admit it was a good trick. Colin looked around at all the students crowded into every nook of Hogsmeade Tavern. He pointed out that if everyone waited to apparate, it would still take a lot of time. All they had to do was get out of the town.

That was when there was a knock at the door and a demand to open up. Colin froze. There wasn't enough time to do anything. It might be the landlord, coming back for something he forgot, but why would he knock? He pulled his wand and approached the door.

He opened the door just enough to look out yet not enough for anyone to see in. But the person on the other side was not interested in talking. The door was shoved open and a tall blond man with an angry expression walked in.

Colin responded with a curse from his wand and the man went flying backwards out the door. A crowd of people were out there, none of whom looked friendly. They instantly pulled out their wands and began shouting curses. Colin was already on the move. With a shout to cast shielding spells, he motioned all the older students forward. There were still several shrieks and screams as students fell after being hit by curses and pieces of flying wood. The doorway and most of the wall had exploded.

[_This wasn't in the book._

But the shields were up. Forty and more students stood in lines and kept their spells in place. And someone else decided to take action. A screech was heard from overhead. Malcolm was not the only one to look up but he was one of the few who knew what he would see. Dennis, who had never reappeared had taken advantage of the situation. Above the Death Eaters and their helpers appeared a Griffin, the head, claws and wings of an eagle, the body and feet of a lion and a tail that was a serpent. It screeched again and dove at the attackers. They scattered in surprise.

Colin shouted that they needed to get out. He knew that apparating some of the students away would only weaken the ones left behind. They would have to leave as a group. He called for everyone who could cast a shielding spell. They drew their wands and proceeded to follow Colin outside. On his order, they fanned out, making a protective screen. The younger students were called to fill the center of the circle. They would flee Hogsmeade in the direction away from the school.

As Nob followed Malcolm outside, he felt someone tap his shoulder. It was a fourth year he didn't recognize, even though the boy had a Ravenclaw emblem on his robes. "You dropped this." He handed Nob a small silver cube after brushing some dirt off it. Nob thanked him and put the cube in his pocket.

When all the first years were outside, Colin gave the signal. The fourth years began to lead the small procession. Except for the one boy Nob didn't recognize. That boy stepped backward into the shadows and ran around the side of the building away from everyone else. There was a man standing there, wearing a leather vest over travel clothes. He had a funny looking watch in one hand. He smiled at the boy.

"Good going, Jeff. We have a green light. Now let's get out of here before the fireworks start."

"Glad to, Bogg," Jeff said. He grabbed the man's arm as Bogg pressed a button on the Omni. And both were suddenly gone.

One second later, over two dozen men and women, with wands drawn, made a sudden appearance at the end of the street. Colin called out at once for everyone to run the other way. It was an adult voice from the other direction that called out not to bother. Another dozen or more adults were in the street on the other side of the Hogsmeade Tavern.

The third years rushed to that side of the circle They lined up in a row facing the man who had just shouted. As the spells began flying, every third year called out a shielding spell. One looked back and gave Malcolm a knowing smile. The fourth years were in the front line facing the other way. They were doing the same thing. Colin had taken his task to heart and made his plans of just in case. With fifth and sixth years filling the gaps, and those who could were shouting their own curses, the group began to move

Spells were being fired at the students now from both directions. And a pair of brooms appeared. Soon they would be overhead as well. The broomriders were flying over their own people when one of them was suddenly thrown into the other. Both fell as a sudden cheer rang out. There stood in their place the Griffin. The great beast dove and scattered the Death Eaters before the advancing students. That was Colin's signal. Everyone was now out of the tavern and on the move. Fourth years shouting shielding spells as they advanced. Fifth and sixth years shouting whatever curses and jinxes they knew. In the rear, the third years, with Malcolm to help, retreated with their shield spells in place. A smaller number of the older students were there as well to shout out curses.

With a cheer, the students had reached the edge of town (only two blocks away). It was then that they realized it was a trick. They were now out in the open. The front and back had to join up to become a circle. They were trapped.

A shout. A third year girl collapsed as a curse hit her. Another shout. A third year boy. A small cheer as the Griffin reappeared, but he was too busy keeping the brooms away. They had no help on the ground.

Malcolm saw it. A wand in his direction, but not at him. It was at Malin Avery. He held his shield up; he had to or things would be worse. The man shouted his curse but was hit from the side by another curse before he could finish. Suddenly, one of the attackers was attacking his own people. Three or four went down in a second. Then the man was hit by three curses at once, and collapsed. It was Avery's father.

Things became fierce. Every student who could was now casting a shielding spell. Every attacker was casting curses as fast as possible. Even the Griffin flying overhead was howling in pain as it continued to fight. Malcolm looked over as someone suddenly bumped into him. "Sorry," Nob said as he drew his wand. The shield wall was suddenly that much stronger.

"We can't hold for long," Nob noted.

"We can," Malcolm told him, "They would have said something. You know that. We're going to get help."

"From where?"

All Malcolm could do was shrug. He had no idea what was going on elsewhere.

A green flare was coming at them. Someone had decided on the killing curse. Malcolm jumped up and in its path.

[_You know, if I live through this, I'm going to be nice to Nob. For an hour._

From above there was a final howl. The griffin was falling. It crashed, wounded, in front of the line of students, on the side facing Hogsmeade. Malcolm transformed and flew to the griffin, reforming in front of him and casting a shield. But the griffin wasn't moving. Then Colin was with him. Between the two of them they could shield the beast but they could not move.

"Malcolm," Colin said anxiously. "I'm open to any suggestions. We can't last much longer."

"At least you took out the bitch who knew the killing curse," Malcolm said.

"Not that it bothered you much. I'd like an explanation for that."

"Not right now," Malcolm grunted as his shield spell deflected a number of curses.

They stopped talking. Two Death Eaters (probably Death Eater Wannabe's but that didn't matter at this point) fell from curses cast from behind them. Several turned to face the new attacker. Two shouted curses and the new face held up his wand. A sudden freak lull brought the sound of his voice as he shouted, "Absorb." Both spells hit his wand, flared, and were gone. They briefly lit up the face of an older Malcolm with very long hair.

[_What the hell is he doing here?_

"Is that . . . Louis?" Colin asked.

"With some help," Malcolm admitted as they gained a small respite. He dropped his shield and quickly cast "Rennervate" on the prone griffin. It didn't seem to help. As they watched, the people with Louis suddenly ran away. Louis did the unthinkable and rushed through the battle line, literally diving behind the griffin as the attack renewed. A moment later, he was up and apologizing.

He was also shouting "Absorb" again, drawing most of the curses being thrown at them, all to be absorbed by his steel wand.

"Nice trick," Colin noted. " I'll have to get one of those. What happened?"

"They're going to round up the help. Once the townspeople know they have a chance to organize, they'll come." Louis looked behind him. He turned back. "Wish I'd checked first if they were behind youse guys as well."

Two more screams came from behind them. Colin looked back. The shield line was collapsing. They had lost.

* * *

Nob couldn't think. Girls all around him were crying in fear. And not a few boys as well. The griffin had fallen. Nob looked up to see a curse get through and strike Euan Abercrombie. The boy froze like a statue. Another curse hit a fourth year Hufflepuff. She went flying into the students crouched behind her. She shook for a minute then lay unconscious. As he turned away, a memory returned. Nob reached into his pocket for the cube. He pulled it out.

"What is that?" Avery asked as he knelt next to Nob.

"It's . . ." Nob said as he looked at the silver cube in his hand. The little handle had slid out and that was what he grabbed hold of. A red flash and two more screams, but Nob didn't hear. He was remembering. And he remembered what to do.

"It's Thor's Hammer."

Nob took the risk of dropping his shield. He hit the ground with the toy hammer. A little boom sounded. He hit the ground with the hammer a second time. The boom was louder. Loud enough for those nearby to look to see what he was doing. Nob hit the ground with the hammer a third time. The noise was so loud it made the ground shake. A streak of lightning rent its way across the sky. When everyone looked up, it was to see fourteen men on what looked like steel brooms with handlebars and mounted machine guns. A hoary voice shouted, "To War!" and all hell broke loose.


	23. Space Vikings

**Chapter 23: Space Vikings**

"TO WAR," a chorus of voices cried. The mailed warriors flew down into the nearest group of Death Eaters, weaving around the spray of curses shouted at them. As they closed in, they each aimed at a target and fired. A dozen of the attackers fell. Some did not move. Those that did were writhing in pain. The Vikings did not fight to stun or capture their enemies.

They quickly shot down the rest of the small group, except for the two or three who turned and ran. Then they split up into three groups. Six Vikings circled the group of students clockwise. Six went widdershins. Two landed and dismounted their crafts. One went to the griffin. The other approached a girl, Nob was kneeling next to. He was holding her hand. The girl lay still, barely breathing as blood flowed from the slashes that magically tore her body.

The Viking undid his helmet and shook free a mass of blond hair. Nob couldn't help but stare. It was a woman. She pulled a long thin device from her utility belt and knelt down. The device emitted a blue beam.

"Her name's Miriam," Nob told the woman, with a sob. "She's in my house."

The Viking woman laughed as she ran the beam over the girl's body. "I hope she likes scars. If not, she can have one of your med wizards remove them."

Nob looked at Miriam. As the blue beam passed over her, the skin knitted itself, leaving behind bright red lines where the original cuts had been made. Nob looked back at the woman, amazed. The woman smiled back.

"I'd rather be fighting, but it is a small battle. And to steal their victims adds insult to the injuries of your enemies. And I love insulting people. Miriam will be fine, and there are others I must see to. "

Without ceremony she called out, demanding to know who was worst off. She went off to see to the next casualty. Nob smiled at the thought that a stranger came to heal in the middle of a fight because she felt like it.

* * *

It was a rout. As the Vikings flew past the fourth years, they let out a cheer. The Death Eaters had learned very quickly that if they ran away they would not be pursued, and if they stayed they would die. But some people have no sense of honor. One of them, the woman who had tried to kill Malcolm, had recovered. She had also started to run, looking back as she ran. Once she saw she was in no one's line of fire, she turned and shouted her favorite curse. One of the Vikings crashed into the ground. He was dead before his craft began to fall.

The woman aimed her wand to shout another curse but she never had the chance. Two of the Viking craft turned at once and opened fire upon her with their mounted guns. She died quickly and painfully. And the Vikings changed their tactics. Those that were fleeing were now pursued. A loud voice demanded surrender or death. After the closest Death Eater who chose not to surrender was given the same death as the woman, the others decided that throwing down their wands was a better plan for survival. The battle would take longer to for the Vikings to conclude but not by much. The two battle squads now consisted of three men each as the others took up the new task of rounding up the escaping enemy. As they approached each other, they also approached the most prepared group. Another Viking fell as he was hit by a curse, but he would survive. The remainder advanced as they neared the tall man who led the group of attackers. The man, Thorfinn Rowle, prepared himself to attack. He cast the killing curse at the flyer closest to him but the man flew above the spell and turned to attack. But Thorfinn had few morals. Knowing he had failed, he threw his wand down and raised his hands in surrender. He had correctly guessed that the Vikings would not kill an unarmed man regardless of what he had done while armed.

But the killing curse had missed its target. That did not mean it had stopped in its path. It continued. And in its path was the second Viking healer. And the griffin. A moment later, the spell made contact with a closer target, one which had deliberately stepped into its path. Without a word, Colin Creevey fell dead. The battle was over. The last casualty had died. And it had only been ten minutes since Nob had struck the ground with Thor's Hammer.

* * *

Five men confronted Thorfinn Rowle and the last of the Death Eaters. (Three men and two women to be accurate.) Rowle was repeating that he had surrendered and that he wanted to know what was to happen. One of the Vikings removed his helmet.

"I command here. I am Oleg Karlsson. Are you in command of this group?"

"I am," Thorfinn said. He smiled derisively. "I was."

"And you ordered your men to attack helpless Children."

"I would not call them helpless."

"But you would call them children. Do you claim they have already been trained as full warriors? I would guess them students at yon school. Are they? Students, I mean?"

"They were." Thorfinn spoke with confidence, ignoring a wild animal howl from near the circle of students. "Once our lord has won, some of them might be permitted to return. And if you are willing to serve, he will even show mercy. You surprised us, but you are no match for him."

"We serve no one," one of the helmeted Vikings said. "Except by our choice, and only if WE find him worthy. If your lord survives this night, we will end his life for him or die trying. That is our way."

Thorfinn laughed. "Such Honor! And so misplaced. I mistook you for wizards. But my offer still stands. Agree to serve the Dark Lord and you will live. I ask you, is that not just?"

"Then, you seek justice?" Oleg asked.

Thorfinn was smiling easily. He was in control of the situation. "Justice is all I want."

"Fair enough," Oleg said. The five Space Vikings all drew their laser pistols and fired simultaneously.

* * *

_You know, having the sight is not as great as I thought it would be. Not after what I've seen. I bet Malcolm would agree._

[_Nob's right. I do agree._

It was after Nob had smiled. Miriam had woken long enough to look at him and the other first year Ravenclaws that had surrounded her. Then she fell asleep. Nob looked up at the carnage around him. He was in time to see the death curse woman die. And he saw something else. The woman was still standing there in shock. And Death was next to her. She embraced the woman and she was gone. And Death was also further away, embracing the man who refused to surrender. And she was kneeling not far from Nob, holding the Hufflepuff girl who had been thrown back earlier by a curse. She had finally lost her battle for life. Death was embracing her. And the girl was smiling.

Nob turned his head. The Viking who died was also standing where he died, but when he saw Death, he bowed to her. Death smiled at him and bowed in return. There was a scream and Nob turned. It was Malcolm who had screamed, but not because he was hurt. Colin, who had been standing next to him, suddenly jumped to one side to be engulfed by a green light. And Nob knew that if it had not been Colin then the victim would have been Dennis.

Nob walked forward as all sounds of battle had now ended. He saw Colin stand up and look down at his own body. He watched as the ghostly Colin tried to touch his brother who, still in griffin form, had bent over the body and was beginning to howl. Nob was close enough to hear when Colin turned to look at Malcolm.

"Tell my brother that I love him."

"I think he knows," Malcolm said. His voice cracked as he tried to keep his emotions in check. Nob knew exactly how his brother felt. But he had to turn his head when he noticed two figures walking up that weren't being noticed by anyone else. It was Death and the dead Viking. They were talking as they neared Colin. Death nodded and stopped as the Viking continued to approach. Nob tapped Malcolm on the shoulder and pointed. As Malcolm looked up, a third ghostly figure appeared. An armored woman on a winged white horse.

"Knute Olesson. Great Warrior. I have come to take you to your reward."

The Viking turned as his name was called. Nob, Malcolm and Colin were watching the curious scene that no one else could see.

"Oh, beautiful Valkyrie, I am happy to see you although I wish more time had passed before we met."

The Valkyrie landed. "Give me your hand and we shall fly to Asgard. You will feast tonight in the Halls of the Gods."

"But not alone. Do you not see? I am not the only warrior to fall this day."

The Valkyrie waved her hand. "What jest is this? These murderers and worse would be welcomed by no god."

Knute laughed. "Not them, but a noble leader who fought well and sacrificed himself rather than let one of his own fall. Surely such a man has honor and deserves such a reward."

"Such a man does, Knute Olesson."

"And he deserves this regardless of his age, be he old or young."

"The age of a hero does not matter. Only what he holds in his heart. I call my sister." Another Valkyrie appeared and landed next to the first. "Now show us this warrior."

Knute turned to Colin. "Well, lad. It's time to go."

Colin was startled. "Go where?"

"VALHALLA," Knute laughed. "To feast with Odin, the king of the gods, until the last days of Ragnarok and the final battle that will determine who will win the universe, good or evil. Will you come, lad? You may be the one to turn the tide."

Perhaps it was because he was dead, but Colin could not focus clearly on his brother anymore. All he could see was Knute and the Valkyries. One of the Valkyries held out her hand, and Colin stepped forward. He paused, and looked back one last time at Dennis. Then he turned to Malcolm. "Take care of him for me."

Malcolm smiled. "I'll let him think he's taking care of me."

Colin returned the smile. He walked up to the Valkyrie and grabbed her hand. In one fluid movement, she pulled him up onto her horse and leaped with it into the sky to follow her sister and the Viking she carried. There was a brief burst of light and the sky was empty.

As suddenly as the light disappeared, there was another burst. The Vikings had fired their pistols. It had been an execution. As they walked away to return to their ships, Nob could see the scene clearly. Thorfinn Wolfe was lying prostrate on the ground as Death approached. He was screaming and trying to crawl away as he held out one hand toward Death, as though to ward her off. Death ignored his hand and knelt down to embrace him. There was sudden silence as Thorfinn shrank and faded. And silence still as Death opened her hands.

"I don't hear the sound of wings," Nob said to Malcolm.

Malcolm didn't smile. "You don't need wings to go to hell."

* * *

Draco stayed back with Crabbe and Goyle. They knew Potter was up to something, and hid where they could watch the Entrance to the Room of Requirement. Once the Weasley girl departed the room, they waited until they had a chance to act. When Weasley and Granger joined Potter, it looked like they missed their chance, but luck was on their side. The three went into the Room without looking back. And Draco ran forward before the door could close completely. As he entered, he knew where he was. With a wave, Crabbe and Goyle followed him inside to hunt for the Chosen One.

* * *

Tavin Avery woke with a start. A woman wearing the strangest armor he had ever seen was kneeling over him. And next to her was his son, dirty but healthy.

"You are a curious man, I hear," the woman said as he helped him to his feet. "You betrayed your companions."

Tavin took a moment to look around. The lady was part of a group. But from where she came, he could not guess. But they were most certainly on the side of the students. With as much certainty, the Death Eaters had been defeated. As for himself? "Do what you want with me. I don't care. My life is forfeit. I only ask that you see my son is treated well."

"He is not my son," the woman said. "You will have to take care of him." She smiled at a thought. "You said your life was forfeit. Then you are mine to command. The leader of these children has been slain. That is the cost of your freedom."

Several students had gathered around. One, a first year Hufflepuff, dared to ask, "What do we do?"

The woman watched his reaction. Tavin looked in the eyes of those around them. Children. All looking to him. He smiled as he thought of what his brother-in-law would say. And he asked his son what the original plan was. Then he paused. He turned to the woman. "I saw your, un, crafts. We can't move all of them by magic."

The woman smiled again. "I'll ask Sven to call the longboat."

Tavin began giving orders. "Malin, take your cousin and find out how many are injured. You." He pointed to a fifth year girl. "Help them and grab anyone else you need. The rest of you, get organized by year and houses." With luck, he thought, we might get away. Behind him, in the direction of the school, could be heard the not so distant sounds of the battle for Hogwarts.

Then he felt the Dark Mark burn on his forearm. Voldemort wanted to know what was happening.

* * *

Remus Lupin was running down the staircase when he heard a voice command him to stop.

"Turn around slowly," The Death Eater said. "I want to see your miserable face when I kill you, Lupiiiiiiiiiiiiin." The last word was said as Malcolm came from behind and pushed the man over the railing.

"Thank you, Malcolm."

"Um," Malcolm said. "I did you a favor. I need one in return."

Remus smiled. "Finite Incantatum. And thank you, Draco." He made a grand gesture. "I'm off to fight. Care to join me?"

"I can't," Draco said. He patted his pockets to show he had no wand. "I'm looking for Ginny."

Remus pointed the direction. "And I'll personally buy you a new wand once this is over. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that, old man," Draco said with a laugh. They shook hands and ran off in opposite directions.

* * *

One of the Vikings walked up to Malcolm. It was the same one who had given him the cube. "Well met, young storyteller. How fares your Chosen One? Is this part of his story?"

Malcolm tried to smile. "More of a side story. His story's taking place up at the school. It ends tonight. One way or the other."

[_if we managed not to screw everything up._

An eagerness entered the Viking's eye. "Perhaps we could help?"

Malcolm paused. "It's kinda something he has to do on his own. He wins if he fulfills the prophecy. And he already has his . . . companions. This here was a surprise."

The Viking shrugged. "Perhaps we shall wait."

Malcolm looked around. Most of the students were fine, but a good number were still suffering the effects of the curses. He even felt thankful that only two students had died.

[_Yeah. I am thankful. We were lucky it wasn't a lot more._

The Viking was also looking around, at the sea of faces. All young and beardless boys. All young girls who had not yet reached their prime. "For most of them, this was their first battle." The man smiled. "And those who could, fought bravely to protect those who could not." Malcolm looked at Dennis, still kneeling over his brother's body. For a brief second, he saw Reese lying there. "Sir, about the bodies?"

"We will help you build bonfires for your comrades if you wish? The carrion we are burying now."

"Um, we don't do bonfires here, but . . . I'll be staying to watch them, me and Dennis, until we can take them to the castle."

"I'm staying, too," Nob said. "We're a team."

Oleg Karlsson walked up at that moment. "Sven. You summoned the longboat?"

"For transport. They are to take refuge in the hills. These two and the brother of the fallen leader will stay to keep watch over their dead."

Oleg nodded. "There is an adult we can send with them." He pointed to Tavin Avery, the Death Eater who had turned against his own to protect his son. "A curious man. He told us everything, freely. He claims his life is forfeit." He looked down at the twins. "You will appreciate this. He showed us his dark mark, and used it to tell his master that everything was 'under control'."

* * *

Ginny was happier than she could put into words. She was forced to leave the Room of Requirement. That meant she was free to help fight the battle. Tonks was with her at the window when Harry appeared. Then Aberforth Dumbledore praised her as he ran by. She could see Harry waiver, and decide to let her be. Tonks asked about her husband, Remus Lupin, then ran off to find him. And Harry told her she was to go back into the Room as soon as he was finished with what he had to do. Neither of them believed she would.

Then Harry was gone, taking Ron and Hermione with him. Ginny gave a last look back then turned to the window again. She fired another jinx and heard a noise. She turned again in time to see Gregory Goyle following someone into the Room. She turned to follow and someone grabbed her hand.

"Don't."

"Draco?"

"Sorry, Love. I need to ask a favor."

"But . . ." she looked toward the Room of Requirement.

"I'll follow them, once you help me out. Two Dracos will confuse the situation enough. But I want you to find someplace safe. Please."

Ginny hugged him, whispering her thanks. He whispered back, "Anything for you, Love."

The castle shook. The window shattered. The one that Ginny had been standing at only recently. Breaking away from the wall, and some of the wall coming with it anyway, it flew past the young couple to crash against the far wall.

"Get someplace safe, Ginny. Now."

Ginny gave him a quick kiss and ran to find somewhere else to fight from. Draco watched her until she was out of sight and turned toward the Room. The door had disappeared and he had no idea where Potter had gone. He sat down to wait.

* * *

Ginny had barely made it up the next staircase when the building shook again. Ginny fell to the ground. The staircase was hit by some masonry and gave way. She would have to find another route when she wanted to retrace her step. When she wanted to get back to Draco and Harry. To Harry and Draco. And suddenly she was crying. She understood that she finally had to make a choice. And she couldn't. Tears flowed down her cheek and she set her wand down to try and find a handkerchief. Hands ruffled through her pockets without success until she felt a piece of cloth being thrust into her hand.

She wiped her eyes and her cheeks. Without looking up she said, "I wish I had never been born."

"Then you would have missed everything," a man said to her. She looked up. The man smiled, "Nicholas Nott, at your service. You are Miss Weasley, I believe." The building rumbled. "Perhaps we should get you somewhere safe."

"There isn't a safe place, anymore."

"Too true. Only a minute ago I was wishing I was more of a coward. Then I would never have come. Not that I'm much use. I did pass out a few healing potions, but I ran out rather quickly." He helped her up and led her down the corridor, away from the open pit that was once the staircase. He looked though the doorways into the empty classrooms, trying to find one that was relatively intact. "May I ask, if you are that frightened of being in the battle, then why didn't you leave?"

"I'm not afraid," Ginny said angrily. "I can fight with the best of them. I . . . I . . ."

Nicholas tried to smile. "Fine. I was trying to console you and you confuse me instead. Do you want to go to a window and see if there's anyone to hex.?"

"I don't want to hex anyone!" The anger in her voice was replaced by a little girl voice. "I love Draco Malfoy and he went to help Harry Potter."

"Oh. And why did he do that?"

"Because I love Harry Potter." Ginny smiled. "Now I remember. You created the youth potion. You can make me young again. Young enough that I never met them or heard of them."

"But," Nicholas Nott started to say. He smiled, instead. "I have the potion on me, and I will give it to you if you really want. But . . . you will need a change of clothes. I'm terrible at transfiguration."

Ginny was now thinking. She knew where to get a change of clothes. "Gryffindor Tower is this way."

* * *

"So, why did you come," Malcolm asked Louis.

"'Cause Dad did, and Gramps. Francis asked them to help. They're trying to get the folks here to do something. And it ain't gonna be easy. You can hear the fighting at Hogwarts from almost everywhere. And most of them heard the fighting here. If I lived in this town, I'd be hiding in the basement and I'd never answer the door."

Malcolm nodded. "And your wand. It absorbs spells?"

"Cool, huh? That's why a steel wand's great. Any spells coming at ya and woosh, right into the wand. Not the big ones, though, so ya gotta be careful what's comin' at ya. You comin' to the castle with us?"

Malcolm looked at Dennis who was sitting by Colin. He then glanced at Nob who was holding watch over the Hufflepuff girl. "Maybe later."

Louis nodded. "I'll come back when it's time. I know a good hover charm." He was looking at the girl. "It'll help."

Malcolm nodded, and watched as his strangest friend ran off into the town. He turned toward the hills but could see nothing. The Viking longship took all of the injured and most of the younger students to the caves. The older students, making several trips apiece, had apparated with the rest. He left Dennis to his mourning and went to sit with Nob.

* * *

"Draco?"

Draco looked up. "Dewey? Why are you here?"

"I'm waiting for Reese. It's almost time to take him home again. Why are you here?"

Draco shrugged. "I'm supposed to be stopping myself from hurting Potter. At least, I think that's what I'm doing." He sighed. "Ginny loves him. I was only there to pass the time."

"You have to go," Dewey insisted. "If Harry sees you . . . Look, trust me. It could be bad if Harry sees both you and Reese, especially while Reese looks like you."

"No. I'm tired and I'm going to sit and wait."

Dewey was determined. He did not have much time. And he did have to get rid of Draco before Harry came out of the Room of Requirement. So he did what his family did best.

"Look, we're close enough to the end so I can tell you. You remember Erik?"

"Yeah, he made me promise not to, how did he say it? 'Rat me out'? Until after the wedding. Is he back?"

"No. But in his world, they write books about Harry Potter. Before Harry does those things. I have a copy of his seventh year in my room. And if everything comes true in the book, then we win."

"If I'm losing Ginny, I don't care. Why? What's supposed to happen?"

"Harry saves your life in that Room. He comes out, and . . . He realizes what his prophecy means."

"Figures. Potter would have a personal prophecy."

"Draco!" Dewey was getting annoyed, but he knelt down. "He doesn't see you when he comes out. That's why he's not distracted from his thought. That's when he realizes he has to sacrifice himself in order to defeat YOU KNOW WHO."

"Potter? Dies?"

Dewey nodded. "And in the epilogue, she's with her husband . . . as Draco Malfoy sends his son off to school." Dewey smiled. Technically, he did not lie. "For her sake, you need to leave here. Why don't you go fight some Death Eaters?"

"I get Ginny?" Draco was in a daze.

"Only if you leave right now."

It was with a burst of pure happiness that Draco fled the scene. It was with a burst of pure necessity that Dewey hid behind the nearest tapestry. He watched the scene from his hiding place, knowing full well what would happen. Harry was there with Ron and Hermione. And Fred was there as well with George and Percy. Then Fred commented that Percy had told a joke. Dewey shielded himself from the explosion.

Once the building stopped shaking he was out from behind the tapestry. He did not look back, would not look back at the Weasleys. He grabbed at Greg and Draco and forced the two stunned Slytherins to follow him. Once they were out of sight, he talked Gregory Goyle into going back to Slytherin. He didn't have a wand anymore and the best way to help was to stay out of the way. The older boy lumbered off in a daze. Dewey watched as until he disappeared around the far corner.

"Draco," Dewey said with a smile as he held out his wand, "I have a surprise for you."

"Good man," Draco said. "You're giving me your wand."

"Not exactly. Finite Incantatum. The surprise is you're really Reese."

"Dang," Reese said as he transformed. "On second thought, forget it. I'm sick of being Draco anyway. Did you know that he doesn't cook at all? No one in the family does?"

Dewey nodded as he led his brother to where he had hidden his broom. His last task had been accomplished. He would fly Reese back to Glen Levitt Academy and happily wait out the rest of the night. And a smile crept to his face. Maybe he could get Reese to cook him something.

As for Draco, he ran every which way, trying to find someplace safe. He saw some fellow students but decided not to join them when one shot a curse at him. Assuming that Reese had restored his reputation, he also avoided any other students he saw. After that, he slunk around, hoping to find a good hiding spot. At one point, he risked looking down a stairwell to see what the noise was. Instead, he came face to face with a Death Eater. Panicking as the Death Eater drew his wand, he began shouting, "I'm on your side. I'm on your side."

"Not anymore," the Death Eater hissed and raised his wand to curse Draco. He fell over after being hit with a stunning spell. Elated at his luck he looked to see who had saved him. For the briefest of seconds, he saw an arm with a fist attached. After that, he decided to take a nap, considering the fact that he was no longer conscious.

* * *

It seemed like hours, and it was. Malcolm and Nob sat on the ground and waited. Dennis had made a wiser choice, not that he had a choice. He lay down where he was and was sleeping. After all he had been through, he could not have stayed awake if he tried.

As the noise from Hogsmeade increased, Malcolm understood. The townspeople were rising up.

[_They must be attacking the school already._

Malcolm looked up and saw Louis Renault walking back toward them. When he was close enough, he gave the older boy a questioning look. Louis nodded. He pulled out his wand and said, "Mobilus Corpus." The Hufflepuff girl rose into the air.

Malcolm walked over to Dennis and gently shook him awake. "It's time to go back to the school." He pulled out his wand to cast the same spell, but Dennis stopped him. No word was spoken, but Malcolm understood. Dennis would take care of it.

Where Dennis was, the griffin once again stood. It picked up Colin's body with its talons, with surprising gentleness. Rearing on its hind legs, it leapt up as it flapped its wings, making its way to Hogwarts. Malcolm looked back at Nob. His brother nodded his head. Malcolm transformed and flew after the griffin. He knew that the battle would be over by the time he arrived.


	24. Where Do We Go From Here

**Chapter 24: Where Do We Go From Here**

Ginny walked into the disaster that was the Great Hall to watch the final moments. Harry had revealed that he was the true master of the elder wand. The morning sun shone into the hall as the final duel began, as though to greet a new day on both the literal and figurative levels. As quickly as the duel began, it was over. Like everyone else, she ran over to congratulate him. To say her brief word. Then she stepped back. This was not Harry Potter. This was the Chosen One, the Hero. He would become Harry Potter again in a day or two, when everyone became exhausted. And they would have plenty of time to talk, one on one.

Nicholas Nott had used their time to talk her out of using the youth potion. And she was happy with his reasoning. She knew she would wed Harry Potter, and she was content. She feasted with her friends and family, which they made in small part a wake for all they knew who had died. It was a time of happiness and sadness, and neither one could completely diminish the other.

As the feast neared its end, Luna made some ridiculous statement about Humdingers, and Ginny cast an idle eye toward her. She was probably the only person to see Harry Potter disappear beneath his invisibility cloak. She rested her head on her mother's shoulder as Molly held her daughter to her. Just the two of them.

"Mum, I did something you should know about." She felt Molly's arm stiffen.

"Am I going to regret this?"

"Well . . ." Ginny said sheepishly.

* * *

"Draco?" Narcissa asked. She looked beaten. Lucius Malfoy looked as though he had been beaten. And badly. Both stared at him.

"It's me, Mum," Draco said in a dull tone. "Cousin Dewey took Reese back to his own school."

"Then who was . . ." Narcissa asked, referring to the death in the manor.

"Reese. He died as me, so when we took the spell off he became himself again. And we changed him back to me again."

Narcissa hugged her son and Lucius put his arms around both of them. As he did, he commented, "we really need to get better relatives."

They sat down in a corner, not sure of what to do. Any of them. Lucius expected to be arrested at once. Narcissa expected the same, or at least be ordered to leave. And Draco, he looked wistfully at a red-haired girl and knew that Dewey had lied to him. Which he should have expected by now. But then, Dewey had lied by telling him what he most wanted to hear.

They did eat, because they were hungry, but mostly they sat there out of the way. Waiting for someone to tell them what they should do. And someone walked up to them.

"Lucius? You look simply terrible. You should see Madam Pomfrey . . . when she gets a chance. This place is a terrible mess. I'm glad I missed everything."

"Nott?"

"Nickelby. We felt one of us had to come since we did switch sides, and I have tomorrow's classes at Beauxbatons. But when Nicholas owled me, I flooed and apparated as fast as I could." He looked around. "Where is Nicholas?"

Lucius felt a headache coming on. He always did when talking to Nott, regardless of which side he was on. "I have no idea?"

"Then I'm in time. Is that Ginny Weasley over there?"

"You shouldn't point," Lucius said. "It will attract unwanted attention."

"I should think not," Nott said as he turned around. "Brother, there you are. Where have you been all this time?"

"In the kitchens, eating everything I could and not having to fight anyone for it. I would have loved being up here, but I didn't want to take away from HIS moment."

Nickelby nodded. "The Chosen One has triumphed." He smiled at Lucius then quickly turned away at the frown he received. "And?"

Nicholas cleared his throat. "Mister Draco Malfoy. May I introduce . . ."

That was as far as he got. Draco was already moving to his feet and stepping forward. He glanced back at Ginny Weasley, who was smiling at him. Molly Weasley was also looking at him. She gave him a look that said she couldn't do anything about it so he might as well go ahead. Draco turned back, stepped past the two Notts and into Ginny Weasley's arms.

Lucius looked at the Notts. "You didn't?" He groaned as he understood that Draco lied all along about trying to seduce the Weasley girl. That she had seduced him. He looked at Narcissa but she was smiling.

"Look at it this way, Lucius. She is a pureblood."

"There is that," Lucius admitted, and kissed his wife. Somehow his life was getting better.

Draco and Ginny weren't paying attention. Draco was looking at her in admiration. She was looking back at him with a smirk as she said, "Remember that day I whispered into your brother's ear, you wanted to know what I said. I told him I was going to marry you."

"He told me," Draco said, and hugged her to him, never wanting to let go. He couldn't help thinking that Potter had always gotten the best of him. But he was the first one to win Ginny's heart. If there was any justice in the world, Harry Potter would show up at that moment.

Someone was tapping his shoulders. It was George Weasley, who said, "It's about time. Welcome to the family."

Arthur was talking to Lucius. He was grinning. It was good to be on the winning side for once. "You look like you've had a hard time."

Lucius tried to smile. He would try to be polite, perhaps humorous. "Draco did this to me. Tried to beat some sense into me. Didn't work, though."

"You're being awful chummy."

Lucius decided not to smile. And to hell with politeness and humor. "My son is going to marry your daughter. Your family is going to help keep the Malfoy line pure for another generation. Because of that, I will be as 'chummy' as you like."

Arthur's smile faded. "You don't really approve, either?"

Lucius nodded toward Narcissa who was hugging Ginny and welcoming her into the family. Arthur looked, and Molly was giving Draco a peck on the cheek. And Ron was standing behind them with Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.

"What's all this?" Ron demanded.

Draco laughed. "I asked Ginny to marry me. And she said yes."

Ron hit him. Draco decided to take another nap.

Harry was staring at the scene. The girl he had his heart set on was . . . kissing Draco Malfoy. And all the other Weasleys were yelling at Ron. He turned to Hermione who was staring past him completely wide eyed. He looked back at the scene in front of him. "Ginny?"

Ginny's voice answered from the other side. "Harry?"

Harry turned. "Ginny?"

Ginny kissed him. "We need to talk. All of us."

* * *

Seventeen minutes later.

The Weasleys, the Malfoys, the two Notts, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter all barreled into an empty classroom. The only thing remaining was a chandelier on which a tired owl was perched.

_Dang. I had just fallen asleep._

The Notts explained what they had done, and why. Molly Weasley said it solved a lot of problems, and gave her a second daughter, even though she was just as bad as the first. Ron Weasley said they should just tell the Malfoys to bugger off. He followed that with the word, OW, as his mother smacked him and told him to watch his language. Narcissa Malfoy couldn't hide her joy. She told Molly that she was so happy they had survived. Then to find out that Draco had found someone like Ginny. Hermione Granger laughed, calling Narcissa's attitude a fake. Narcissa turned her face into a solid piece of stone, not one muscle out of place, and told her that this face was the fake. She did everything she had to so that she and her family would survive. And it almost didn't work.

"You're still stuck up," Harry Potter said snidely.

"Of course we are," Narcissa admitted. "We are still fabulously wealthy. It comes naturally when you have loads of money."

"I've been thinking," Lucius said with a grin. He was looking directly at Potter. "If, or should I say when, my son marries Ginny Weasley, she will become my daughter-in-law. She will be my daughter-in-law because she's married to my son. Therefore, if you marry my daughter-in-law, that will make you . . ." he paused as Harry understood where the conversation was going, then he added, "Just call me DAD."

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

_I think it's a hoot, but that's because I'm an owl._

"I'm curious," Harry asked, refusing to let his feelings die. "How can you be so cheerful when Molly Weasley killed your sister? I'm sorry. Your sister-in-law."

Lucius snarled. "If that's your attitude, then ask Arthur Weasley how he can be so cheerful when his son is dead."

The room went quiet. Lucius stood up. "Too many things have happened today. We are all exhausted. Let us imitate that owl above us and get some rest before we start another war."

"A good suggestion," Arthur Weasley said with a stern look at Harry.

"Good night," Narcissa said as she and Lucius left the room.

Draco hugged his Ginny Weasley and said goodnight. Molly deliberately gave him a hug to show there were to be no hard feelings. Draco looked up. "Malcolm?" The owl ruffled its feathers. "Sorry. Goodnight, Nob." He left for his old bed in Slytherin.

* * *

"Why, yes, I would like to spend the night," Louis was saying. He was speaking French, of course. He was irresistible as the suave young Frenchman. The girl he was talking to obligingly giggled.

* * *

"But I remember on the train," Harry was saying.

"That was Reese," Ginny explained.

"And at Malfoy Manor?"

"That was Draco."

"And in the Room of Requirement?"

"Reese."

"But last year. He fixed that cabinet. That was him?"

"Well, Reese planned it all and started it. Draco finished it because they took Nob as a hostage."

Harry nodded. "So, every time I defeated Draco at something, it was Draco. And every time he beat me, that was really Reese?"

"Yeah."

"I'm confused. How can Reese be better at being Draco than Draco is? Draco should have a natural advantage. And now you have me calling him Draco."

"Do you want to marry me?" Ginny asked.

"That's a given."

"Get used to it. He's going to be your brother-in-law."

Harry groaned.

* * *

Seventeen Days Later.

"Sir," Claire said into the intercom. "There is a woman here to see you."

"Send her in," Francis told her. He started to get up but Harmon told him to stay. He would get the door. He opened it, and was surprised to see Professor McGonagall standing there. She gave him a dubious look.

"Percival, you even look respectable in that suit. Do you think it will help?"

"I am hoping, Headmistress. May I introduce you to . . ."

"Francis, it is good to see you face to face."

"Minerva?" Francis was already standing. "Did he say Headmistress? I knew you were a teacher."

Harmon paled. "The two of you know each other?"

McGonagall patted Harmon on the shoulder. "He never mentioned you, Percival. I wouldn't worry about it. Are the two of you ready? Your trials begin in less than an hour."

"Sure," Francis said easily. "I haven't done this in years. My groveling won't be up to par."

Harmon eyed Francis in a new light. "Did I ever coax you into doing something you've never done before?"

Francis paused. "You talked me into thinking big. Does that count?"

"The trial," Minerva reminded them.

* * *

Kingsley Shacklebolt was now the official Minister for Magic. And as such he had his hands full dealing with all the Death Eaters. The dementors were back to their tasks, but now they were as much prisoners as the wizards and witches they guarded. They were also much fewer in number. Everyone who faced and fought one of their number never considered mercy. Not that a dementor would understand the concept. And Kingsley's duty was to restock the prison with those who deserved to be there.

The first trial this morning would be an easy one, he thought. Two men had broken the law, but they had done so to fight against the Dark Lord. But one of them had a few other things to answer for.

"We call the first case." He ordered Francis to be brought in and the questioning began. Francis described his initial meeting with wizards fleeing the Ministry and his conversation with Harmon. He went on to explain how the tours started as an effort to both save his job and to save innocent people. He was honest enough to point out that his first thought was keeping his job.

Henri Renault (Greaser) was there as a witness. He testified that Francis contacted him about smuggling refugees into France. As a result, he was the principle contact. He estimated that an average of one hundred people per month, the largest percentage being children, were evacuated to France.

When the question of money came up, Harmon was brought in. He brought with him all three sets of books and tried to explain what each one was. The third set was turned over to the Ministry for examination. The questions continued with Harmon answering most of them. As planned, Harmon was shown to be the guiding hand behind the operation of the mall and its active use as both a refuge (Harmon deliberately looked at Shacklebolt as he said that) and as a means of helping people to 'disappear'.

Then the two men waited for judgement.

* * *

Piama was on the phone. "Well."

"I'm officially innocent of all charges," Francis said casually. "And I get to keep my share of ownership in the mall, kinda."

"Kinda?"

"Yeah, Kingsley thought it fair that everyone who contributed money should be part of it. I only own 20 percent."

Piama laughed. "I'm crushed. And Percy? Did he get his pardon?"

"And his 20 percent, after everyone is paid back with interest from his previous, um, enterprises."

Francis explained that there were, technically five equal partners. Malcolm was also a partner since it was his money they used. And everyone who had money seized by them counted as another partner. The funny thing was that Lucius Malfoy was the fifth partner because a lot of money from his account was already his. It wasn't really funny because he might have everything taken away.

Piama was ecstatic. "I'm having Timmy bring me down right away."

Francis sighed. That meant that his wife was going shopping. While waiting for her, he went back into the courtroom. Lucius Malfoy's trial was about to begin.

* * *

"Should we even bother?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked.

Lucius shrugged. "I would like to cut a deal."

"Cut a deal?"

"My apologies. I have spent too much time recently with my American relatives. But . . . yes, I would like to cut a deal. I plead guilty to everything without question and let you sentence me to life in prison. In exchange, you agree to transfer ownership of all my money and property to my son."

"I would not agree to that in a second," Deputy Minister Weasley said. (Although Bill had no idea why he was asked to join the Ministry.)

"Then I challenge every charge and claim against me on the grounds that I am the victim of a massive fraud. That should take some time. I would wager a month or two. Or are we going to return to the swift road of justice that we had under the previous Minister?"

"A good point," Bill said grudgingly.

Kingsley banged his gavel. "Are there any objections from the Wizengamut? Then I declare Lucius Malfoy guilty of all charges. Does anyone have a statement to make before I pass sentence?"

Nob stood up from where he was sitting in the viewing stands. He also raised his hand.

"Nob?" Kinglsey asked.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"You were polite. You wanted to say something?"

"Well, Uncle Lucius is guilty of all those things he did. But he had a good reason. He did it for his family. His only problem was that he thought Voldermort would win. He did all those things to make sure his family was safe after the war was over. I mean, that Harmon guy did all that stuff he did because he thought Voldermort would lose, and he wanted to be safe after the war was over."

"And your uncle committed terrible crimes in the process."

"They were going to be committed anyway. And this way he made sure they weren't committed on any of his relatives. He even lied about me being a pureblood, just so I'd be safe." Nob gave his best lost puppy look. "Please. He did it for his family. It's not his fault he guessed wrong."

Nob sniffed.

Kingsley put his hand in front of his mouth to hide the fact that he was laughing. Nob's plea was completely meaningless and obviously rehearsed. He cleared his throat and put on a straight face. "And what alternative do I have?"

"Community Service," Nob said proudly.

"What?" Lucius Malfoy asked.

"It's a muggle idea. If anyone needs help, Uncle Lucius is there. For the little things no one likes to do. Like cleaning the park. Helping to sort library books. All kinds of stuff."

"I would like to see that, Minister," Amos Diggory said from his seat next to Bill Weasley. "If we send him to Azkaban, he'll be gone and forgotten. But constantly having to perform menial tasks? I really would love to see that happen."

The idea caught hold and several people joined in to agree on the idea. Kingsley noted the request. "Does anyone else have anything to say before we discuss sentence?"

Arthur Weasley stood up. "Kingsley, I hate having to defend this man, but this community service idea is wrong. Even if it's only for him. He'll be paraded around like a slave to show how much better we are than the Dark Lord who made it a point to have more than one slave. I'd rather see him set free than subject him to a life like that. It would be worse than Azkaban."

"He is correct," Lucius Malfoy said. "I would rather go to Azkaban."

Malcolm was sitting next to Hermione. "Do something," he whispered.

"What? Are you crazy? Malcolm, the man is a villain. He can't be trusted. He'd steal from himself if he could. If I could do something to help the man, why would I? And don't try that puppy dog look on me. It never worked even when you were eleven the first time."

"But Uncle Lucius did some good things," Malcolm said, raising his voice.

"Such as?" Hermione asked, her voice also getting louder.

[_You know, I should have thought this through. I have no idea what good things he's done._

"He . . . well . . ."

"Well?" Hermione asked. She stopped and looked up to realize that everyone was listening.

[_Heck, I'll just lie. I've got an audience now._

"Well . . . he gave Francis access to his Gringotts account in case he needed money."

"Draco gave Francis the account number."

"And Uncle Lucius gave his permission. Or does Gringotts let anybody go to the vaults if they guess the right number?" Malcolm added, angrily, "And you know where that money went."

[_Wow, I'm really good at this. I should become a politician._

"Is that true?" Kingsley asked.

Nob jumped up. "Yes it is. Uncle Lucius gave Francis permission to use his account."

And because he told the truth, he was believed.

_I learned that from Malcolm. I'm just not going to say that he was told to and the reason was because they thought Francis was going to use the money to do things even Uncle Lucius wouldn't do. If I told them that, they'd believe it too._

Kingsley turned to Lucius Malfoy. "I would like to know why?"

Lucius Malfoy shrugged, and lowered his eyes. "Francis is my nephew. He needed my help. I had no choice."

[_This is great. Uncle Lucius is an expert liar. Everything he said was the complete truth. Out of context, of course._

The Wizengamut was in the quietest uproar anyone had ever seen. It carried on for so long that everyone was sent out to get something to eat. Except Lucius Malfoy who was sent back to his prison cell. And Francis, who asked Kingsley if he could talk to him for a minute.

Francis was smiling when everyone was led back into the chamber. Malcolm smiled back. He turned to Nob who broke out into a grin. Malcolm sat down next to Hermione who was sitting next to Ron, who was sitting next to Dewey.

Kingsley Shacklebolt called the court to order. "We have before us a man guilty of many crimes. But this man also committed acts that were considered crimes by the previous Minister and we must take those into account. Our decision has been made based on one extenuating fact. The principal cause for those actions is now gone, so there is little chance those actions will be repeated. Therefore, the Wizengamut sentences Lucius Malfoy to life imprisonment in Azkaban, such sentence to be suspended unless and until Lucius Malfoy is convicted of any other crime. Also, according to a prior agreement with the guilty party, all properties and monies that are in his name are to be turned over to his son, Draco Malfoy, to do with as he sees fit. This case is dismissed."

"Told you," Dewey said to Ron.

Hermione stared in disbelief as Ron pulled a Galleon out of his pocket and gave it to Dewey. She turned to Malcolm. She had just realized that everything was a setup.

"What?" Malcolm asked.

"You . . . YOU . . ." Hermione was furious. "YOU MALFOY LOVER!"

[_Heck, gramps was a Malfoy. What did she expect? Mom's ticked, though. She knows our acting like this comes from her side of the family._

Lucius Malfoy was stunned. He went with the plan because he had nothing to lose. He never expected it to work. He looked up at Kingsley and tried to say something but couldn't. That one act gave Kingsley cause to doubt; He may have done the right thing after all.

Narcissa was on her feet and running to Lucius. She was hugging him before they could get the chains off his arms and legs. Draco joined them and they walked cheerfully from the courtroom. At one point, Lucius had to ask how they managed to get Arthur Weasley to stand up and give that speech. It was supposed to be Dewey.

Draco reminded his father that the girl he was engaged to was that man's daughter. He smiled when his father understood that Ginny was the responsible party. After all, it was true. Azkaban would be better than a lifetime of community service. Draco was also smiling because Ginny had nothing to do with it. Arthur Weasley honestly thought the idea so repugnant he had to speak out against it. On the other hand, if Lucius Malfoy liked his future daughter-in-law as a result, it was worth lying to him.

* * *

Tavin Avery was surprised at how quickly he was called for his trial. He had not even expected it to be today. Yet he was now standing before the Wizengamut. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic, gave him a resigned look and said. "We find the defendant guilty on all charges and sentence him to life imprisonment at Azkaban. Based on precedent, because of his actions in Hogsmeade we suspend the sentence unless he is found guilty of any future crimes. Are there any objections?"

"What?" Avery was in shock. The chains were removed from him and he was told he was free to go. "Go? But . . ."

Malin was there at his side. "I'd just go with it, Father. It'd take too long to explain."

* * *

"Francis, you were great." Piama said as she ran up and hugged her husband.

[_He was. He manipulated the Minister of Magic._

"Thanks. Malcolm?"

Malcolm shook his brother's hand. "That was your best move yet." He looked around. "Where's the kid? Didn't want him to see daddy in trouble?"

Piama tried to look angry. "He's not our son. We're only taking care of him. And we left him with the Weasley's. Ginny and her sister are showing him how to play quidditch."

Francis smiled. "He says he's getting good at handling a broom. You know, I should try it some time."

"WAIT," Malcolm said. "I thought the kid was normal, you know, a muggle."

"Yeah?"

"Muggles can't fly brooms. If he's flying a broom, then that means . . ."

In a second, Francis was back in the court room. He almost ran into a man with a dazed look on his face. The man said he was free and Francis commented that he didn't know wizards had divorce courts. Then he was confronting the Minister for Magic.

"Kingsley, about that kid."

Kingsley smiled with honest joy. "Thank you for reminding me. The Wizengamut officially recognizes the adoption. Timothy is now officially your son."

"You didn't tell me he was a wizard." Francis paused. "You set me up!"

The smile wavered, trying not to become a laugh. "Francis, you can find people in this world who will believe anything. And there are people in this world who consider magic to be evil, who don't realize that magic is only a tool. It is no more evil than a hammer. It is the person himself. The boy's real parents rejected him because they believed he was possessed by a devil." The smile held. "He'll be receiving his letter next summer."

* * *

"Hey, dudes and dude-ettes," Johnny said as he walked up to the gathered clan of the Malfoys and their American relatives.

"Johnny?" Malcolm asked, as Narcissa asked Francis what a dude-ette was.

"Yep. It's me, bird boy. Like the new suit?"

"Yeah? You look good in Paisley. What's up? Business meeting?"

"Kinda," Johnny said casually. "I gotta present my creds to the Minister."

"Creds?" Lucius asked.

"Oh, sorry, old man. Credentials. I ain't used to this politics stuff yet. It's, like, my first gig."

"Ah," Lucius said as he realized it would be better to ignore the conversation than to try to try to figure it out.

"Yeah," Johnny was saying. "Like, that Winter dude up an' quit so they needed somebody to take his place."

[_NO. NO. THEY DIDN'T? NOT JOHNNY?_

_Wow, this is going to be great._

Dewey had to ask. "So, you're the new American Consul?"

Johnny grinned broadly. "Yeah, Malcolm has a really warped reputation. No one else would do it. But it's all cool. Little Dabney's coming with me. Brentwood . . ."

"WHAT?" Malcolm shouted. "Dabney's going to Brentwood Academy? But he's a muggle."

"Don't matter. He's got his wand and he can do magic. They made him go. But like I said. It's all cool. He passed his classes. He even got an O in divination. A'course that teacher's a bit flaky."

"They always are," Draco said in agreement.

"Anyway," Johnny continued. "Since I gotta be here, they're lettin' him transfer."

Malcolm held his head as a headache began that would not stop. Dabney was going to Hogwarts.

[_Please. Somebody hex me to death right here._

"Do I know Dabney?" Francis asked.

Nob answered. "He's the one who bragged to you that he had curvature of the spine."

* * *

Seventeen Months Later.

The Restaurant was packed. Despite that, Malcolm still managed to get a table. It was a family affair. And everyone in the family was there, including Jamie, who was almost two years old, as well as the Malfoys. Ginny Malfoy sat next to her new husband.

Everyone had a wonderful time. Including Jamie, whose meal came with a toy. It was a broomstick. It would go no higher than one foot off the ground but Hal was still chasing him all over the restaurant. And when it came time to go, Hal was the one to stand up.

"I know I'm supposed to tell some adventure story or something, but I'm not that kind of guy. I just want to let everyone know that I've had a wonderful time here. Even with the kids being here. And the relatives. Even after all the hard times we had, which we came through without even a scratch. And it's all because of Lois. She is the best, most perfect, most loving woman I have ever met. And I want everyone to know it. She's my wife. And I am the luckiest man in the world. I am the luckiest man in the universe."

Hal put so much heart into his short speech that he received a loud ovation from the crowd. And on the balcony that overlooked the restaurant stood two figures. Death and Dream. Death looked at her brother.

"What he said. Is it true? Is he really the luckiest man in the universe?"

Dream smiled. "It has to be someone."

* * *

Seventeen years later.

"I was the one who suggested his name, you know," Lucius Malfoy mentioned.

Rebecca Dutton Adverse looked at him in surprise. "You suggested he be called Arthur Lucius?"

Lucius smiled. "Indeed I did, and it was a wonderful idea. We still despise each other, even after all these years, I should tell you. And I knew what would happen, and it did. He swallowed his pride and ASKED to come here to Malfoy Manor to see his grandson. He hated having to do that."

Becca smiled politely. It seemed that most of Lucius Malfoy's stories were about how he insulted or embarrassed someone. She was happy when her husband came and rescued her. Reese was in the kitchen and asked for help to prepare the birthday meal.

They walked past the children, who were busy playing. Colin, who was nine and as smart as his father, Malcolm, was explaining the rules. It was a role playing game. Everyone chose an element and a name and starting statistics.

Becca laughed as they passed Harry Potter who was telling his wife that he couldn't believe she talked him into coming here. Ron assured him it wasn't that bad. Hermione gave him a look that said she didn't believe him. "I'd like to know why you agreed to come, too."

"She's my sister," Ron insisted. "And it is her birthday. Their birthday."

"And Reese is cooking the meal," Ginny Potter reminded them. Ron did smile at that. "And we came for another reason. Did you notice she's been putting on weight?"

"Doesn't look like she getting fat?" Ron said as he looked over to where Ginny Malfoy was talking to her mother and mother-in-law.

"You'll notice when she stands up," Ginny promised.

Hermione smiled. "I'm going to be an aunt, again?" She excused herself to give her congratulations.

Ron smiled as his wife suddenly forgot to hate (most of) the Malfoys. As he watched her join in the conversation, his mind began to wander. Harry was making remarks about how he still disliked the family, including their American relatives, and Ginny, Harry's Ginny, was laughing and telling him to grow up. His thoughts returned to the war for some reason, and the night they gained Gryffindor's sword.

"Excuse me, Harry. I need to talk to Malcolm."

Everyone gave Ron a surprised look, but he only smiled at them as he stood up. He walked past the children. Arthur Lucius had claimed he was now Scorpius Hyperion, the master of fire magic. Lily Potter said it was a stupid name and she was a water mage, Lady Lily of the Lake. Ron walked up to Gabrielle and asked to borrow her husband for a minute.

* * *

Malcolm had explained the situation to Harry, Ron and Hermione beforehand. The world they were going to wasn't very good yet with surprises. When he went to check things out, he almost started another war.

"Dewey knows I'm coming?" Ron asked.

Malcolm smiled. It was an honest smile with no humor behind it. "He's looking forward to seeing you again. They all are." He brought them to the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic. Then Malcolm disappeared.

They looked at each other with amusement at a man stepped forward from a small group of people that were obviously waiting for them. The man walked toward them. A familiar looking man, short with mousy-colored hair.

"Mister and Missus Weasley? Mister Potter? Of course you are. I'm Dennis Creevey, Minister for Foreign Affairs. I'll be your official escort."

"Foreign Affairs?" Hermione asked.

"Technically speaking, you are foreigners and, hence, under my jurisdiction." Dennis's voice lowered to a mock whisper. "That argument gave me this privilege." In a normal voice, he added, "Shall we go? The Minister would like to talk to you at the earliest convenience."

Dennis cheerfully led them through the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic. Most of it looked the same except for where the sculpture stood. It was in the same spot as the statue in their own world. There were two men and one woman, teenagers by their looks, in the act of building some kind of shelter by hand. Hermione couldn't help but notice that one of them looked like Malcolm, and the girl had a strong resemblance to Gabrielle. And she noticed something else. There were markings on the base that supported the large sculpture. And words on the lower part of the base.

"Excuse me," Hermione asked as she pointed. "Could I take a closer look?"

Dennis seemed to grow taller when she asked, and replied, "it would be an honor."

"If you have any questions," one of the group said, "please feel free to ask."

Ron and Hermione walked over. There was no small surprise that the platform was taller than them by almost a foot. And the markings became clear as they approached. From the top of the support to about three feet off the floor were column after column of names and dates. Hermione frowned. "Ron," she whispered, "It's a list. An alphabetical list."

"Of what?"

Hermione looked at Dennis. "It's a memorial? To both wars?"

Dennis looked confused.

"Minister," an aide said. "Perhaps in their world they separate the two phases?"

Dennis smiled a thank you, and turned to Hermione. "That would be a yes."

Harry was reading the words on the base. "This was our dark age. These people died so that we could live to see the light." He looked up. "There are hundreds of names here."

Ron felt he should remind his friend that "Dewey told me their first war lasted longer than in our world. We had almost fifteen years of peace." He felt almost embarrassed when one of the aides muttered the number in surprise.

Hermione was looking at the wall when she suddenly stepped back. She had Ron's attention at once. Two of the aides walked forward as well. One asked what happened. Hermione apologized. She recognized a name. Ron looked at where she pointed. He almost knew beforehand what he would see. Harry Potter October 31 1980. James Potter October 31 1980. Lily Potter October 31 1980. When Harry asked who, he was not surprised. He was looking at the Longbottoms. Neville and his family were also listed there. They had died two months after the Potters.

Hermione had to look. She found her own name. She had died when she was seven. She turned when she heard Harry ask. "Neville's grandmother. Her name isn't here."

Dennis nodded. "Professor Longbottom teaches Charms at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded. "And Alastor Moody? He died in our world."

Dennis did the unexpected. He turned away, as though in thought. He turned back. "He is still alive. When the war ended, he could have commanded anything. He chose to become headmaster at Hogwarts. So that he could continue teaching."

"Headmaster?" Hermione was smiling at the thought. "He taught for one year at our Hogwarts."

"He never . . ." Dennis choked back his words. "You should know something about us. When Voldemort rose again, he struck fast and hard. Moody came to the school and grabbed as many of us as he could. Ten of us. He saved us. And he trained us. I remember Cedric Diggory was the oldest . . ."

"They were known as the first ones," one of the aides said as Dennis faltered under the long suppressed memories. "He trained them, then sent them out to train others. I was trained by Seamus Finnigan. His name is on the wall." He pointed to the man next to him. "Cho Chang." The woman on his other side. "Michael Corner." He pointed to the younger man at the end, looking at Ron.. "You trained him. You should know, of the first ones, only three survived."

Ron nodded his head. "Dennis, Malcolm and Dewey."

Dennis nodded. "Dewey was the youngest of us."

"Ron, let's go," Hermione said. "I don't want to see anymore."

"I'm also on this wall," he whispered to her. "Even here, I'm with you."

He needed to look. Harry and Hermione followed. They walked to where the W's began. And Ron began to read. Arthur Weasley, Charles, George, Fred, Molly, Percy, Ron, William.

"She's not here," Hermione said out loud.

"Who isn't?" Dennis asked.

"Ginny. Ginevra Weasley. Her name's not on the list."

Ron's face froze. He was looking at the date next to his mother's name. April 8 1981. Ginny's name wasn't here because she had never been born. He pointed the fact out to Hermione.

"Look at the dates," Harry said. "It tells the entire story."

Percy and Charley had both died the same day as their mother. Arthur and Fred also died together, almost two years later. George died on a date Harry recognized. The day Voldemort returned. Bill died three months later. And the latest date belonged to Ron. He died on the last day of their war.

Dennis surprised them again with another mood change. He laughed. "Only two people ever fought Voldemort and lived for more than a minute. The Chosen One was one of them. You were the other. You fended him off for more than five minutes. The Dark Lord . . . thought . . ."

It was Harry who spoke. "Voldemort thought he had killed Dewey. That's what you were going to say. And Ron distracted him?"

Dennis gave a confused look. Harry showed how he knew. He brushed his hair aside to show his scar. Harry had to smile. "Something similar happened to me."

Ron was amazed."But I was fifteen. I was only fifteen. How could I do that?"

"All our lives were at stake. You needed to," Dennis explained.

Harry looked at a surprised Ron. "You did the same for me. Whatever you needed to do."

As they began to walk away, Hermione looked back. "It's the phoenix," she said.

All of the escorts voiced their approval. Dennis told her she was correct.

"Hermione?" Ron asked.

"I thought they were building something. But it's already built. It's a nest. From the ashes of the dead comes new life. The phoenix is reborn."

"And they're rebuilding their lives," Harry noted.

Harry was looking at the man next to him. Like everyone else, he seemed vaguely familiar. He had introduced himself as Euan Abercrombie. As they walked, Harry asked him about Hogwarts. And who was head of house for Gryffindor.

Euan faltered and gave Dennis a quick look. "They don't have one. The houses are mostly honorifics as all the students share one house. What used to be Hufflepuff." He knew what Harry's next question would be. "Hogwarts has a current student body of 87."

Hermione had to explain their surprise. "In our world, this school year, Gryffindor has 28 first year students. That's why your numbers were such a shock."

"It was a war of attrition," Dennis explained. "There was so much that was lost."

They entered the elevator and went down to the level which held the offices. Dennis led the way to the Minister's office and opened the door for them. No one made an announcement. They simply walked in.

Harry thought it funny, but no one ever said who it was. It was assumed they would know. And when Dennis said the Minister wanted to see them first off, they did make that assumption. Therefore, it was no surprise that Dewey was sitting in his office when they arrived. Harry and Hermione held back as Dewey, his hair still long, stood up and walked over to Ron. He pointed them to the couch against the far wall where a five-year-old boy was sitting and staring.

"Ron, come meet the man you were named after."


	25. Extra Stuff

**Chapter 25: Extra Stuff**

Author's note: It's over. On April 14, 2002, I posted the first chapter of Hogwarts in the Middle. On February 25, 2008, I will have posted the last chapter of this story. No more Malcolm and Harry. I can only hope that everyone enjoyed the six year ride. This final chapter is not really part of the story. It contains the bibliography, deleted scenes that never quite made it into the final story, and supposedly clever comments by yours truly. Well, forget about the clever comments.

And by the way, in case anyone was confused by Sherlock Holmes comment that Dewey's assassin was nice enough to warn him, it was the duck. The firework that went off before the missile hit Dewey's broom was a duck. Get it? DUCK? Never mind.

A final thank you to everyone who has been reading this story, and to my reviewers: I am grateful for your remarks and corrections. I have tried to respond to your reviews, although it has rarely been in a timely fashion. If I did not, it was an oversight, and I do apologize, although not as much as I should for throwing Space Vikings into a Harry Potter story.

[_On the other hand, he got away with it._

* * *

**Deleted Scene One: Moody in Grimmauld Place**

_originally, this was supposed to be a flashback of B-W-L Dewey when Moody was mentioned. Moody never got mentioned._

Alastor Moody was in no good humor. They were children. The Diggory boy was legally an adult, but he was the only one. He took stock of all those he managed to bring to the safe house. Cho Chang looked to be competent. As did the Hufflepuff, Michael Corner. And they were the oldest of the group. The others, though, needed work.

He looked at the youngest three. And they were all from Gryffindor. Dewey was the youngest of them, and the reason for what Alastor did. IF he was the one that damned prophecy meant. But this one did the one thing no other candidate did. He survived.

And then there was his brother. Malcolm had a look in his eyes that said he was dangerous. And the way he stepped forward to help during the escape said he had the smarts to back it up. Moody liked his look. He had the same look in his own eye.

The last Gryffindor was the most unlikely one. He was the smallest of the lot. He could easily laugh but tended to be silent. Moody knew more about him than he cared. Orphaned at the age of five. Living in the streets of London any way he could. Learned about magic on his own. (Like Moody would believe that.) Made his way onto the Hogwarts Express by killing a pureblood his age and stealing his wand and robes, and identity.

They were the youngest and most dangerous, the most unstable, and the most likely to survive.

"Listen up," Moody said to everyone in the room. "I'm going to teach you everything I know about what we're up against. And then we're going to go after a few items that helps You-Know-Who keep going after being killed fifty times. That's why you're here. That's the only reason you're here. You may die because of what I have you do but . . . you're going to die anyway if you don't do anything."

"You know how to kill the bastard?" Diggory asked.

Moody smiled. He liked the anger in the boy's voice. "I do." He held up a locket. "This is a Horcrux. It was stolen from the Dark Lord by our host's late brother. I have it because I promised to destroy it." Moody explained what a Horcrux was, how it was made, and how many there were. He then showed how to destroy such a thing. He cast the hellfire spell. Their host, a thin black haired man named Black, was casting the countercurse almost at once.. As it was, the table the locket was on was completely destroyed. As the students watched, the locket, having survived the fire intact, suddenly seemed to melt into the floor where it had landed. "And now there's six left. Kill them and we can kill him for once and all. Any questions?"

Malcolm raised his hand. "When can we start?"

* * *

**Deleted Scene Two: Holmes and Watson**

_A cute scene but it didn't fit in._

"Holmes?" Watson asked as he opened the door to see his old friend standing there.

"Surprised, Watson? It is your wife's birthday. You did invite me."

"I always invite you, but you never accept."

Holmes walked in as Watson stepped aside. "I have been thinking. Do you remember the first time our young musician friend stopped by?"

Watson led the way to the sitting room where his wife was already in her place by the fire. Holmes walked up and wished her a happy 79th birthday. He sat down in the offered chair and thanked Watson for the glass of wine he was handed. Once Watson was seated as well, he repeated the question. "Do you remember when we first met Dewey?"

"And the second," Watson said with mirth. His wife, Mary, smiled. She remembered her husband telling her that story. "Has he come by early again?"

"No, he will be coming here next month, at his usual time. Even though I've been forced to give up the violin because of my age." Holmes gave his old friend the familiar smile. Something was afoot. "When he comes back, however, I will be returning with him to his world. I thought you might like to join me." He turned to Mrs. Watson. "And you as well, my good lady."

"At our age, Mister Holmes. I would love to, but I cannot leave this chair without great effort. Neither I nor my husband are as young as we used to be."

"Too true, for myself as well. But we are going to a world of magic." He looked pointedly at Watson while he pulled three vials from his pocket. "And of magic potions."

Watson's eyes bulged. "Nott's youth elixir? I mentioned it, Mary. You said you wished we had some . . ."

"I am assured," Holmes said, "That the contents of each vial has enough potion to remove sixty years of your life. I thought it only logical to live a new life in a new place."

Mary Watson laughed. "And do you really want me to come? For all that you've associated with my husband, I've not met you a handful of times."

"I do, madam. I do want you to come. Because if you agree, your husband will come." Emotion was in his voice for the first time that Watson could remember. "Even though I will be young again, I do not want to lose an old friend."

"Mary?" Watson asked.

"John, he's asking me if I want to be nineteen again with a rakish young man of sixteen as my beau. For that alone, I would consider it."

"You have a month," Holmes told them. "And if you decide yes but need more time to settle affairs, that isn't a problem."

As he left, Holmes had to smile to himself. The touch of emotion did the trick. That he was telling the truth also helped. Watson would be useful in a new world. He was always an excellent sounding board.

* * *

**Alternate Scene One: The Feast**

_The original party at the restaurant was not a family affair. It was rewritten after I realized that Hal was the luckiest man in the universe._

Simon and Jared were sitting at one end of the long table across from Malcolm and Nob. Mallory sat next to Jared and across from Draco who sat between Ginny and Nob. Ginny and Harry sat on the other side of Ginny, while Helen Grace and her Aunt, Belinda Spiderwick, sat across from them. On the other side of Malcolm, sat Dewey, Holmes and Mister and Missus Watson. Across from them sat Erik and Dan. Next to Dan sat a black haired boy by the name of Jeffrey Jones. (He had been cornered at the celebration feast and forced to explain himself. In exchange for being unharmed, he was forced to agree to join the party. He was explaining to Dan how he traveled through time "to help keep history on the right track". Erik and Dewey were trying to talk Sherlock Holmes into joining their new interdimensional band, as yet unnamed. Holmes suggested whimsically that they travel to other dimensions and stock their band with fellow Deweys and Eriks. He then noticed their expressions and admitted to himself that even people as brilliant as he do make mistakes at times.

The Watsons had begun a conversation with people at the next table

Simon was grinning while Jared was scowling. "He just upset after our trip to Florida."

"I'm tired of adventures," Jared muttered. "It was supposed to be a vacation."

"And?" Malcolm asked.

"We got letters," Simon told him. "Our world has a Hogwarts, too."

"Any Dark Lord?"

"No, but I asked. The Charms Professor is one Professor Tom Riddle."

_GREAT! He has a world where he can be happy._

"Cool," Nob said.

"But," Jared insisted. "We're not magical. Why us?"

"You could be a natural Suppressant," Anthony said as he served desserts to table. "It explains why you never did any magic. And why magic always seems to find you."

"What is this?" Draco asked. "It looks delicious and strange."

"I have no idea," Anthony said, "but the people in the kitchen offered Reese a job. Millicent said he should say yes."

[_Cool. That means we won't have to deal with either of them._

"He plays Me?" Harry was asking. "In movies."

"And he says you're popular. They call it Pottermania. Books, Movies, Clothes, Accessories, you name it."

Helen Grace laughed. "I know how you feel. In my world, they wrote books about my family. At least I had the foresight to tell them to give us a different last name. That's why I told you my name was Grace."

"One book or movie isn't the same as seven," Harry noted.

"And I am thankful," Helen told him as her aunt put a hand on her arm. "Aunt Belinda?"

Aunt Belinda smiled. "I wanted to remind our young hero that fame is nothing, money is nothing. Family is everything."

Ginny hugged Harry. "He knows that already." She looked up. "What happened to Ron and Hermione?"

Aunt Belinda laughed. "The two newlyweds found out there's an inn attached. And that they have room service."

Harry looked surprised. "But it's a party. Why would they want to be alone in a room?" As Harry's face turned red, Nob said, "I know why." And because he told the truth, everyone believed him.

* * *

An explanation: I was sitting around trying to think of an interesting crossover with the Harry Potter series. Something unusual. I wrote two first chapters. One from Harry's point of view and one from the protagonist's. The only problem was that I had no story to go with it. This is another Might-Have-Been story

**Harry Potter and the (Untitled)**

**Version One**

You may have heard of me, whats read about my friend Tom Sawyer, but this ain't the story that you might expect. Mister Twain wrote a right good yarn about my own trip down the Mississippi with my friend Jim but this ain't that story neither. This is what happened when I runned off agin after the Widow Douglas tried to take me back to Hannibal.

I'll tell you first off this story ain't the entire truth though there be plenty of truth in it. I just don't see no harm in stretchin' a few bits to make the storytellin' easier. Ain't no outright lyin', mind you. Just makin' the story more interestin' than it would be with straight tellin'.

I'll start with my name. Huck Finn. That's me. I ain't got those polished manners of them folks back east and I don't want any. If I did, I'd never had this story to tell.

I was first thinkin' when I decided to run off to find my old raft and set out alone. Jim was free and had enough money to buy his family their freedom. That's something I agree with. Ain't right to steal from anybody, even if it's your own kin you're stealin'. Even when they should be no reason to need to steal 'em anyway. I ain't no abolitionist or nothin' but Jim's my friend, and I can't take to keepin' people like they was furniture or somethin'. Jim's free and he deserves to be free. And his family too. And I know I'll go to hell for sayin' those things, but if that's the price a' havin' Jim as my friend, then I'll pay it.

I guess that's why I'm here. I won't grow up right nohow, and I'll take what come by me.

So I get on my raft an' I'm off before anyone can stop me. I knew they'll come after me or send word down river but I figure even a few days more of freedom is worth it before I have to go back learnin' letters and such. They'd of caught me too, if I hadn't pulled that stranger out of the water.

It was that very first night. I'd been swimmin' to cool of from the heat, and I lay on my back on the raft wearin' nuthin' but my skin. The full moon was shinin' an' the breeze was blowin' across the river. And me, I had my feet rested in the water as I floated along.

On nights like that, noise can travel forever up and down the river. That's why I heard the shouts downstream even though it were more than a mile away. I could see the crowd with their torches as they came to the edge of the river. There was a sudden hush and a splash. Then the crowd cheered. I guessed some scalawag got his just desserts and was floatin' to a new home. The crowd hung around for a bit but by the time I came close they was already headin' back to home. I didn't mind. I didn't want to explain what I was doin' anyhow.

It was because of the full moon that I spotted that sack just floating along not twenty feet ahead the raft. I don't know how but it was still thrashing and I figures the man inside hadn't died yet. Then the pain hit me. Not like I hit my hand or somethin' but I felt real bad just sittin' there.

So I jumped in. I was already naked so I didn't have to worry about my clothes. I swam to that sack as fast as I could, and grabbed that sack and pulled it back to the raft. It were close though. I had to grab the raft with one hand and hold onto the sack. Then I had to climb up. I ain't never figured out how I pulled that sack out of the water but I managed. There was a man in it but he weren't movin' anymore by then. But he weren't dead either. He just drank too much water.

I pushed on him the way Judge Thatcher did once when a friend a' his near drowned. An' it weren't more 'an two minutes the man come coughin' up half the river. He stopped coughin' but then he didn't move again. I thought he died but he were jest sleepin'. I shucked him out of his clothes and set 'em so they could dry. He didn't have much. Just a small box I couldn't open no matter how hard I pulled on the lid. And he had a fine polished stick and nothin' else. Then I had the thought that he had a good idea about restin'. I steered the raft to the other shore from where he came and tied it off. I slept til the mornin' sun woke me.

The man slept for three days. We was still tied up for the night when he woke. He had a fever an' all but he asked first off for his things. I gave him the small box he had in his pocket. I told him I had tried but it wouldn't open no matter how I tried, but he opened it with no problem. He took out an even smaller bottle and opened it up. I'd swear he was fine and dandy before he finished drinkin' what was in that bottle. He reached for his clothes and dressed, then he asked about food. I had some vittles left from what I grabbed before I ran and he didn't seem to care about eatin' raw vegetables. He washed it down with most of the water jug. Then he looked at me and spoke in the fanciest accent I ever heard.

"Thank you, kind lad. I must presume that you are my rescuer, that you are the reason this foolish man is still breathing."

I says, "I was the one what pulled you outa the river, if that's what you mean."

"I do indeed, kind lad."

"What'd you get caught doin' anyway."

That man gave me a smile that was all misery and says that if he tol' me I would hate him. I says back to him, "I don't even know you, Mister. Ain't no reason to hate you. Unless you kilt someone. An' I reckon if you did that, they'd of kilt you 'stead o' throwin' you in the river."

The man nodded agin. "I took no one's life, although I did save a life. Those kind people you rescued me from did not appreciate the way I saved that life."

I shook my head. I tol' him it din't make no sense, and he gives me that same smile again.

"It does if you know that I am a wizard," says the man. He sees me stare and says, "a magician, a conjurer, a sorcerer. Do you understand?"

"Did you make a deal with the devil," I asked. I knowed Jim used to do magic with his seances but he didn't do no devil work."

The man lets out a sigh and says no, then laughs when I let out a sigh. I was just so happy he wasn't one of them bad people. He held out his hand to me. "Phineas Longbottom, Wizard first class, at your service, young gentleman."

"Heck, I ain't no gentleman. I'm just Huck. Huck Finn."

Phineas gave me a funny look. "A man shows he is a gentleman by his actions, not his words."

"Still ain't no gentleman," I says. "I stole this raft an' stole that food you ate. I even stole that jug you drank out of."

Phineas bowed to me like I was some fancy nobleman. "I stand corrected. Thank you, Huck, for my life."

I bowed right back at him. "It was my pleasure."

I liked Phineas right off. I've had my share of hucksters and con men, and I did learn somethin' about 'em. But Phineas had this sad look about him. I kinda thought he wouldn't o' cared if I didn't save him. He weren't no slouch about the river neither. He helped with the raft and he could cook some, too.

Fog lit up on the river the first night after he woke up and he aimed us to shore like an expert. By the time the fog reached us, he had a fire goin' and stew in a pot.

"Powerful strange fog," I says at the night dragged on. "Don't seem the weather for it."

"Really?" says he. "What kind of fog do you usually have."

"It's usually light stuff, unless it's powerful hot. It can get thick fast and easy. But, well, you know."

Phineas nodded his head to say he did know. "This is not a night for fog. And not a night for sailing. Who knows where we might end up."

I looked at him strange. I only knowed him this one day but he seemed easy to know. The way he said that last line I became afraid. I knew he didn't mean ending up on some rocks or running into a steamboat. He says he meant that I could walk away from this campfire and end up in Saint Louis even though that's hundreds of miles away upriver. I know he didn't mean to give me a fright but when the fire started to die I wouldn't go fetchin' more wood. Then I got more scairt. Neither would he.

"Phineas,"I says as the fire got low. "Did that happen to you?"

He didn't even ask what I was talkin' about. He knew. And he turns to me and says, "Yes. It happens all the time."

It were like he was telling a ghost story, like George's dad did one night during a thunderstorm. But it weren't like that at all, cause Phineas was tellin me the truth. He asks me first of if I ever heard of the Flying Dutchman or the Wanderin' Jew. I tol' him no, and he says, "they're each a person who carried a curse. It was said the Wandering Jew was cursed for refusing to accept Jesus as his God but I think that is a lie. I have met many others who have refused and they were not cursed."

"But the Bible says he's God. The Widow Douglas tol' me that."

"But other people are told other things." Phineas put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. It made me feel I could trust him. "That, however, is not the point. The point is that the Wandering Jew was a real person, with a real curse. He was condemned to travel the world until someone took his burden from him. And someone did. That man then had to do the same thing. I never knew who he was, but the man who took his burden from him earned the name of the Flying Dutchman. He would sail his ship into the fog and never be seen again. He would appear and disappear many times. One day, he met me. I was a young wizard anxious about the New World and I joined a crew to sail to this new land and explore it. I fell overboard in a storm and was rescued . . . by the Dutchman. I sailed with him and learned his tale, and in gratitude I took his burden from him. When the fog comes, I can walk to a different place, or if I'm on a boat, I can sail into the fog and come out on a different river, or lake or ocean."

My eyes lit up. If we went to a different river the widow Douglas would never find me, and take me back to dress up and learn book readin' and schoolin'.

"We could lit out on the raft now. Then I'd never have to go back."

My face was all smiles but Phineas looked like he was gonna cry. He says it's a curse and that I don't understand. And I says it don't sound like no curse to me. So I get up and head for the raft. I figured I'd only go a little ways, just to see if that magic trick would work.

Phineas grabs my arm and calls me a fool. He yells at me that it's somethin' he don't want. Then I says it don't sound like no curse to me. It sounds like fun and if he don't want it, I'll take it.

Phineas lets go of a sudden and stands straight up. He looks angry and sad at the same time. He called me a fool again, then he called me another name that I didn't pay no mind to, and then he told me that I had his gift, all cause I knew what it was and said I take it. He still called it a curse so I figure I better act a bit scared, but he don't fall for it. He says he knows I want to jump right on that raft and see where I'll end up.

I didn't feel no different than I did but Phineas insisted that things were different for me now. He says that I need to know some more about what happens and if I'm so sure fire to go then best he go with me. I quickly felt my way to the raft and he followed, and we cast off into that fog.

* * *

**Version Two**

It was Wednesday night. Harry managed to get into trouble without any help from anyone else. For his punishment he had to help the Astronomy Professor. And that was the reason he was on the highest tower of the school at midnight. The Gryffindor first years were studying the moon tonight because it was full.

"Professor?" Harry interrupted.

"Mister Potter?" He did not appreciate being interrupted.

"The lake."

"You're supposed to be looking at the sky." The first years snickered at the rebuke.

"I know, Sir. I was stretching my neck (I hope that's a good enough lie) and something caught my eye. There's fog on the lake."

The Astronomy Professor looked at Harry in surprise. "This isn't the weather for fog. It's too dry." He walked over to the parapet and looked out. "That's odd."

"What's odd about fog?" a first year asked, a girl with black hair.

Happy to lecture about something, the Professor smiled. "In most cases, a fog settles. It's actually a cloud at ground level. But if you look at the lake you can see that it is rolling in. And look there. It's centered on the lake. If you observe the outline of the lake you can see that it's thickest in the middle and becomes lighter as it approaches the shore." The Professor drew his wand and waved it. "Yes, that confirms it. That fog is the result of magic. Very good, Potter. Five points for Gryffindor."

Harry's serious concern when the Professor said the fog was magic was tinged with humour. He had been given house points during detention.

"Shouldn't we tell someone?" A first year asked, a towheaded boy.

"An excellent idea, Thomas. You can run with the message. Do you know the way to the headmaster's office."

"I do," Harry volunteered.

"Good. Inform Dumbledore at once."

Harry nodded. He exited the tower and began running down the stairs. He stopped when he heard footsteps behind him. It was Thomas.

"What are you doing here?"

"Following you. He said I was to give the message." The boy looked almost embarrassed.

"You heard him tell me," Harry said with authority in his voice. The boy's face dropped. Harry had to laugh. The boy was clearly trying to get out of class. "Is the moon that boring?"

"Yeah, when you put it up against magic fog."

"Let's get going. Then maybe we'll sneak down to the lake."

Tom's face lit up. "You were thinking that, too."

Harry nodded. "It's magic fog. And the Professor didn't seem too worried."

Harry led the way until they were face to face with the gargoyle. Tom looked up in delight at seeing something knew. He felt he had to say something.

"We have an important message for Professor Dumbledore."

Harry ruffled the boy's hair to get his attention. "We have to give him the password."

"Don't bother," the Gargoyle said. "He's gone out. Do you want to leave a message?"

"It takes messages?" Tom asked in surprise.

"Um, yes," Harry said, hiding his surprise. This was something the gargoyle had never done before. "Let the headmaster know that a fog appeared on the lake . . ."

"A magic fog," Tom added.

"I'll tell it," Harry reminded him. "We'll let him know what we observed when he gets back."

Harry started to walk away, went back and grabbed Tom's shoulder and had him walk away as well.

"Sir, do we have to go back now."

"You should," Harry told him. "I think I should make a closer observation."

Tom gave Harry a smile that brought Fred and George to mind. "Then you won't be taking me back to the tower?"

"You can get back on your own."

"I don't remember the way." He kept walking with Harry.

"That's a lie and you know it."

"Well, you've got detention. You have to go back, too."

Harry shook his head as he kept walking. "I'm old enough to use my own discretion."

Tom snorted. "And I'm too young to be walking around the school by myself in the middle of the night."

They turned a corner and Harry smiled. The solution to his problem appeared. Ron and Hermione were patrolling the corridor as part of their duties as prefects.

"Harry," Ron called. "Is that class over already?"

"Not yet." He pointed at Tom. "I need someone to escort him back to the Astronomy Tower. I have to go down to the lake for the Professor."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, you can't walk around this time of night without a reason. Do you have a written note?"

Tom snorted. Harry ignored him.

"It's important, Hermione. Look, how about this. Ron's a prefect so it'll be fine if he goes with me to the lake.

"What's with him?" Ron asked.

"Hermione can escort him back to the Tower."

Hermione shook her head. "Before I agree to anything I want to know why you have to go down to the lake."

"I'll tell her," the first year offered sweetly. Harry's thought was that the kid dyed his hair blond and changed his name from Weasley. The boy turned to Hermione. "There's a fog on the lake. A magic fog." He paused. "And we're both supposed to be in the Tower."

Harry looked at Tom. "That was a clever move. Now she won't let either of us go."

Tom looked at Harry. "I'm only eleven but I'm not stupid. If I was real smart and I heard about magic fog, I'd want to check it out."

Hermione grinned. "He knows I'm smart, Harry. I've helped him with his potions homework twice already." She began walking in the direction of the front entrance, stopped and glanced back. "Fog doesn't last forever, you know. We should hurry. Just in case."

* * *

**BIBLIOGRAPHY:**

**BOOKS**

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. JK Rowling. Scholastic Books, 2007.

The Pagan Mysteries of Halloween. Jean Markdale. Translated by Jon Graham. (U.S., 2001).

Schrodinger's Rabbits. Colin Bruce. John Henry Press. 2004.

The Spiderwick Chronicles, Vol. 1 - 5. Tony DeTerlizzi and Holly Black. Simon & Schuster. 2003 .

Arthur Spiderwick's Field Guide. Tony DeTerlizzi and Holly Black. Simon & Schuster. 2007.

Beyond the Spiderwick Chronicles. Tony DeTerlizzi and Holly Black. Simon & Schuster. 2007.

Viking Tales. Jennie Hall. Yesterday's Classics. 2005.

**TELEVISION**

Malcolm In The Middle, Fox, 1998 - 2005

Dinosaurs, ABC, 1991 - 1994

Voyagers, NBC, 1982 - 1983

**WEB SITES**

The Harry Potter Lexicon

BBC Cult: MITM

Malcolm In The Middle (At Fox dot com)

Greek/English Lexicon (Kypros dot org)

The Spiderwick Chronicles (spiderwick dot com)

**DVD**

Malcolm in the Middle, The Complete First Season, Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, 2002

Casablanca, Turner Entertainment, 1999

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Metro Goldwin Mayer, 2003.

The Sound Of Music

**CD**

B.B. King, Paying the Cost to be the Boss, Delta Entertainment, 1997

**GRAPHIC NOVELS**

The Sandman, Volume Four: The Season of Mist, Neil Gaiman, Vertigo, 1992

Dead Boy Detectives, Issues 1 - 4, Neil Gaiman,Vertigo, 2001

The Dead Boy Detectives, Jill Thompson, Vertigo, 2005


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